m 


—  BY  — 
MATTIE  DYER  BRITTS. 


COPYRIGHT  1886 
BY  GEO. 


CHICAGO  : 

GEORGE  W.  OGILVIE,  PUBLISHER, 
216  LAKE  STREET. 


.Of  C 


The  Widow's  Plot, 
Marc/a,  An  American  Girl, 

A  Heartless  Woman, 

A  Weird  Wedding  Might, 

Fettered  by  Fate, 

A  Frolicsome  Girl, 

Ruled  by  a  Woman, 

Who  Will  Save  Her? 

The  Wife's  Secret, 

For  a  Woman's  Sake. 

DETECTIVE   STORIES. 

Manacle  and  Bracelet, 

The  Severed  Head, 

Eagle  Gray, 

Link  by  Link, 

File  No.  114. 

RELIGIOUS   BOOKS. 

Twelve  Steps  Toward  Heaven, 
BY  WALTEB  B.  ADKINS. 

10  CENT   ILLUSTRATED    BOOKS. 

Bound  in  Lithographed  Paper  Covers,  printed  in  four  colors  •with  an  attractive 
picture  on  the  front  cover. 

Very  Funny  Stories, 
Comic  Paragraphs. 


These  books  are  all  bound  uniform  in  style  and  price  with  this 
volume,  and  can  be  had  at  all  book  and  news  stores,  on  all  trains, 
or  will  be  mailed  on  receipt  of  price  by 

GEORGE  W.  OGILVIE,  PUBLISHER, 

216  Lake  St.,  CHICAGO,  ILL. 


MARCIA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   COUSINS. 

THE  fresh  loveliness  of  the  brightest  summer 
morning  that  ever  shone  lay  around  old  Douglas 
Hall. 

The  long  windows  fronting  the  wide  verandah 
were  open,  and  the  rich  lace  curtains  waved  gently 
with  every  breeze. 

Marcia  Douglas,  the  genial  old  Squire's  only  and 
idolized  daughter,  stood  upon  the  verandah,  beside 
the  gilded  cage  in  which  her  pet  canary  was  swell- 
ing his  yellow  throat  with  his  morning  song.  Very 
fair  and  sweet  to  look  upon  was  Marcia,  with  her 
exquisitely  rounded  figure,  scarce  of  medium 
height,  her  pure,  fresh  complexion,  her  wavy,  red- 
dish-brown hair,  and  above  all,  her  large,  lustrous, 
earnest  brown  eyes,  which  showed  so  clearly  the 
true,  gentle  soul  within. 

She  was  teasing  the  bird  with  a  lump  of  sugar, 
echoing  his  music  with  her  own  careless,  happy 
laugh,  when  a  manly  step  sounded  near  the  win- 
dow, and  the  tall  figure  of  her  Cousin  Vance  ap- 
peared on  the  verandah. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are  !"  he  said,  "I've  been  search- 
ing the  whole  house  for  you  !" 

"  I'm  sure  I  wasn't  hard  to  find,"  was  Marcia's 
laughing  answer.  "  What  do  you  want  with  me?  " 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  a  ride  in  the  cool  of  the 
morning?  " 

2125653 


6  THE   COUSINS. 

"  When  did  you  ever  know  me  to  refuse  a  ride  ?" 

"  Not  often,  I  confess.  Well,  get  on  your  habit, 
then,  and  I'll  order  the  horses." 

Marcia  disappeared  at  once.  Vance  went  to  the 
corner  of  the  verandah,  and  gave  utterance  to  a 
peculiar  long  whistle. 

While  he  waits  for  its  answer,  let  us  take  a  glance 
at  him.  Tall,  broad  of  shoulder  and  strong  of 
limb,  with  a  fair  complexion,  blue  eyes  and  sunny 
golden  hair,  and  drooping  mustache,  he  was  a 
splendid  specimen  of  a  noble  young  Kentuckian,  a 
man  to  be  instinctively  loved  and  trusted,  as  he 
was,  and  deserved  to  be,  wherever  he  went. 

His  call  was  promptly  answered  by  a  small  negro 
boy,  who  came  tumbling  around  the  corner  of  the 
house,  ducking  his  woolly  head  with  a  giggle  as  he 
asked: 

"  Want  me,  Marse  Vance?  " 

"  Yes,  Pete.     Where  is  Sam?  " 

"  Dunno,  Marse  Vance.  Down  to  de  stable 
waterin'  o'  de  hosses,  las'  I  seen  ob  him." 

"  Go  down  and  tell  him  to  saddle  Miss  Marcia's 
horse  and  mine,  too,  and  have  them  round  here  in 
ten  minutes." 

"Yes,  sah." 

"Ten  minutes,  now,  Pete!  And  don't  let  the 
grass  grow  under  your  feet,  either!  " 

Hi!   he  'spect  it  gwine  grow   ober   my  head! 
giggled  Pete,  as  he  tumbled  away  to  do  his  master's 
bidding. 

Vance  turned  to  go  into  the  house  and  met 
Squire  Douglas  coming  out. 

"Any  commissions  to-day,  uncle?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  believe  not,"  replied  the  old  Squire.  "  Going 
to  town?  " 

"  Marcia  and  I  are  going  to  ride.  If  you  have 
errands,  we  will  ride  toward  town." 


THE   COUSINS.  7 

"  No,  thanks;  I  have  none  to-day.  Did  you  give 
the  orders  about  the  mowing?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     They  begin  with  the  south  meadow.  " 

"  All  right,  then.  It's  going  to  be  a  warm  morn- 
ing. I  don't  think  I'll  venture  out  in  the  sun.  I 
believe  a  chair  on  this  cool  verandah,  and  the  Frank- 
fort papers,  will  be  better  for  a  fleshy  old  fellow 
like  me,  than  being  out.  You'll  get  back  to  din- 
ner ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  uncle." 

The  old  Squire  seated  himself  in  his  great  easy 
chair,  and  Vance  ran  lightly  up  to  his  own  room. 

When  he  came  down  again,  Marcia  was  standing 
beside  her  father,  drawing  her  long  buff  gauntlets 
over  her  dimpled  hands,  the  dark-blue  folds  of  her 
stylish  habit  thrown  over  her  arm,  the  blue  plume  of 
her  hat  floating  down  to  her  pretty,  sloping  shoul- 
ders. 

"  Why,  what  is  Sam  about?"  said  Vance,  smiling 
as  he  saw  her.  "  He  ought  to  have  had  the  horses 
here  by  this  time." 

"  Here  he  comes,"  said  Marcia. 

Sam  appeared  at  that  moment,  leading  the  horses 
up  the  broad  carriageway  which  ran  past  the  end 
of  the  house,  and  curved  down  the  lawn  to  the  great 
gates. 

Vance  ran  down  the  steps.  Marcia  paused  to 
kiss  her  father  good-by,  and  followed  him. 

"  Sleepy  this  morning,  Sam?"  asked  Vance. 

"  No,  sah,"  answered  Sam. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  might  be,  it  took  you  so 
long  to  bring  the  horses." 

"  Dis  yer  blamed  beas'  de  fault  o'  dat,  Marse 
Vance,"  grumbled  Sam.  "  Better  watch  her,  sah! 
She's  got  de  debbil  in  her  dis  mornin',  an'  ef  ye 
don't  look  out,  she'll  toss  ye  ober  her  head,  'deed 
will  she,  Marse  Vance!" 


8  THE   COUSINS. 

"  Don't  be  scared,  Sam!"  answered  Vance,  lightly. 
"  Red  Arrow  knows  her  master.  Hold  her  head 
while  I  help  Miss  Marcia." 

He  lifted  Marcia  to  her  seat,  arranged  her  bridle, 
and  vaulted  lightly  into  his  own  saddle. 

One  touch  to  the  reins,  and  the  willing  steeds 
were  off,  Sam  marching  before  to  open  the  road 
gate,  Squire  Douglas  following  them  with  an  affec- 
tionate gaze  from  his  chair  on  the  verandah. 

"  Better  watch  dat  ar  beas',  Marse  Vance!  "  cau- 
tioned Sam,  as  they  rode  through  the  gate. 

Vance  only  answered  with  a  laugh,  and  Sam 
returned  to  the  house,  still  grumbling. 

"  What  a  glorious  morning!  "  said  Marcia,  as 
they  let  the  horses  go  slowly  down  the  yellow  road. 
"  Look,  Vance,  at  yonder  boat!  See  how  the  sun- 
light strikes  the  paddles  and  turns  the  drops  to 
diamonds!  Isn't  it  beautiful?" 

She  drew  rein  and  paused  the  better  to  admire 
the  gorgeous  panorama  of  hill  and  dale  spread  out 
before  them,  the  bright  river  winding  in  the  fore- 
ground like  a  silver  ribbon. 

"  It  is  beautiful,  indeed!  "  said  Vance.  "  I  don't 
think  we  need  rush  off  to  foreign  lands  to  behold 
grand  scenery,  when  such  magnificent  views  lie  at 
our  own  doors." 

"  Nor  I!  "  cried  Marcia,  her  eyes  sparkling  with 
enthusiasm.  "  I  don't  believe  that  there  is,  upon 
all  this  broad  earth,  a  fairer  land  than  our  own!  " 

"  Nor  a  more  loyal  little  maiden  than  my  Cousin 
Marcia!"  said  Vance,  gaily.  "But,  come!  if  we 
are  to  enjoy  the  cool  of  the  morning,  we  must  not 
linger  here." 

"  '  Whither  shall  our  footsteps  tend  —  up  the  hill 
or  down  the  glade  ? '  "  he  quoted. 

"  Suppose  we  ride  over  to  Leslie's.  I  haven't 
seen  the  girls  for  a  week." 

"  All  right;  so  be  it  !     I  am  a  gallant  knight  at 


THE   COUSINS.  9 

my  lady's  command,"  said  Vance,  bowing  with  the 
air  of  mock-chivalry  which  became  him  so  well. 

"  Then  she  bids  you  sun  yourself  in  Maggie 
Leslie's  bright  eyes,"  replied  Marcia,  in  the  same 
vein. 

"  If  I  dared  so  much,  Lionel  Edwards  would  treat 
me  to  sundry  glances  rather  black  than  bright. 
But  won't  that  be  a  short  ride  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  only  meant  to  make  a  call  there,  and 
then  go  where  we  please.  Up  the  Frankfort  road, 
perhaps,  and  then  around  by  the  falls." 

'  So  mote  it  be.'  Come,  Red  Arrow!"  And 
they  broke  into  a  light  canter  which  soon  brought 
them  to  River  View,  the  beautiful  home  of  the 
Leslie's. 

"  Young  ladies  at  home,  Joe?  "  asked  Marcia  of 
the  colored  boy  who  opened  the  gate. 

"  Yes'm,  dey's  all  hyar,"  answered  Joe,  holding 
the  gate  with  one  hand,  and  pulling  his  old  straw 
hat  off  with  the  other. 

"  Ah,  I'm  glad  of  that!  "  said  Marcia,  rewarding 
Joe  for  his  service  with  a  brilliant  smile  which  made 
the  boy  happy  for  the  next  hour. 

The  riders  were  seen  from  the  house,  and  Mag 
and  Myra,  fresh  and  blooming  as  the  Baltimore 
roses  which  climbed  up  the  old  portico,  came  run- 
ning out  to  welcome  them  with  true  country  hos- 
pitality. 

They  greeted  Marcia  with  warm  kisses  and  Vance 
with  kindly-clasping  hands. 

"  We  are  so  glad  you  have  come!  "  cried  Maggie. 
"  Florry  Edwards  is  here.  Now  you  shall  stay  all 
day,  and  we'll  have  a  good  time!  Joe!  Joe!  put  up 
the  horses!  " 

But  Vance  countermanded  the  order,  saying  they 
could  only  remain  a  short  time,  and  then,  amid  the 
ardent  protestations  of  regret  from  their  young 
hostesses,  they  all  went  into  the  parlor. 


IO  THE   COUSINS. 

The  Leslie  girls  were  pretty,  sprightly  maidens 
of  eighteen  and  twenty.  Mag,  the  elder,  was  a 
dashing  brunette,  Myra  a  handsome  blonde,  golden- 
haired  and  blue-eyed,  gentle  and  loving.  There 
was  a  brother,  handsome,  reckless,  good-hearted 
Dick,  whose  admiration  for  Marcia  was  patent  to 
everybody. 

"  Dick  has  gone  to  Lexington  to-day.  He'll  be 
awfully  vexed  when  he  finds  you  were  here,"  said 
Maggie. 

"  We  are  sorry  to  miss  him,"  said  Marcia,  civilly. 
"  Ah,  Florry,  good-morning!  "  she  added,  as  a  tall, 
graceful  girl  rose  from  the  sofa  to  greet  them. 
"  Maggie  told  us  you  were  here.  I'm  so  glad  to  see 
you!  " 

"  Not  more  than  I  am,"  was  Florence's  answer, 
as  she  returned  Marcia's  greeting,  and  gave  her 
hand  to  Vance  as  calmly  as  if  the  sight  of  him  had 
not  set  all  her  veins  to  tingling. 

Lionel,  Maggie's  sweetheart,  was  Florry's  twin 
brother.  They  were  both  tall  and  graceful,  \vith 
the  same  dark  hair  and  clear,  deep-gray  eyes,  and, 
if  not  strictly  handsome,  were  very  attractive,  and 
those  who  knew  them  best,  loved  them  best. 

Florence  cared  more  for  Vance  Douglas  than  for 
any  one  else  in  the  world.  She  knew  that  he  only 
loved  her  as  a  friend — was  never  likely  to  do  more, 
for  she  knew  also  a  secret  which  no  one  else  had 
yet  guessed,  that  his  love  was  given  to  his  cousin 
Marcia.  Talk  of  love  being  blind!  Why,  nothing 
else  is  so  sharp-sighted;  that  was  the  very  reason 
Florence  saw  where  the  rest  were  blind. 

She  was  not  the  girl  to  pine  after  a  lover  who 
had  never  really  been  hers.  She  made  her  little 
moan  all  to  herself,  and  then,  with  a  calm  smile, 
bravely  hid  her  secret,  and  Vance's,  too,  so  deep 
in  her  gentle  heart  that  no  one  dreamed  they  were 
there. 


LOUIS  L'DRU.  n 

Marcia  and  Vance  made  a  pleasant  call  at  the  Les- 
lie's, and  then,  resisting  the  entreaties  of  Maggie 
and  Myra  to  spend  the  day,  they  again  mounted 
their  horses,  and  gaily  rode  away — yes,  to  meet 
the  fate  which  at  that  instant  was  hastening  to  meet 
them. 


CHAPTER  II. 
LOUIS  L'DRU. 

"  As  soon  as  the  moment's  alarm  had  subsided,     *     *     *     He  re- 
gained his  position, 
And  not  looking  ruder, 
Than  the  inroad  would  warrant,  surveyed  the  intruder. " 

Owen  Meredith. 

11  LET  us  ride  up  as  far  as  the  bend,  and  home 
by  the  falls,"  said  Marcia,  as  they  turned  from  the 
gate  at  River  View  into  the  high  road. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,"  replied  Vance. 
"  Steady,  Red  Arrow!  "  and  for  a  moment  he  was 
compelled  to  give  his  attention  to  his  spirited 
horse. 

The  bend  was  a  sharp  curve  round  a  rocky  ridge, 
which  northward  led  to  Frankfort,  and  southward 
to  the  falls.  The  approach  to  the  bend  lay 
thro.ugh  a  lovely  green  stretch  of  woodland,  where 
the  overhanging  boughs  almost  met  above  the  nar- 
row way. 

"  Oh,  how  delightful!  "  cried  Marcia,  as  they  rode 
in  under  the  leafy  bower. 

"  Isn't  it?"  echoed  Vance.  "  Let  us  ride  slowly 
and  enjoy  the  shade." 

He  allowed  his  rein  to  drop  loosely  upon  the 
glossy  neck  of  Red  Arrow,  who  was  now  perfectly 
quiet,  and  reaching  above  his  head,  gathered  two 
or  three  green  branches  and  began  to  weave  them 
into  a  wreath. 


12  LOUIS   L'DRU. 

"  What  is  that  for?"  asked  Marcia,  after  watch- 
ing him  a  moment. 

"A  crown  of  victory,  my  dear!"  answered 
Vance,  lightly.  "  When  I  finish  it,  we  will  ride  a 
race  to  the  falls,  and  the  one  who  gets  there  first 
wears  the  garland. " 

Light  words,  gaily  spoken!  But  little  did  Vance 
know  that  they  were  the  last  happy,  carelessly  free 
words  he  would  utter,  the  last  untroubled  moments 
he  would  spend  for  long,  long  months  to  come. 

The  crown  of  leaves  was  fated  never  to  be  finished. 
The  gay  race  was  never  run. 

As  Vance  spoke  the  last  word  a  horseman  dashed 
swiftly  round  the  curve,  from  the  south,  and  gal- 
loped toward  them. 

Startled  by  the  unexpected  appearance,  uncon- 
trolled by  her  rider's  hand,  Red  Arrow  gave  a 
sudden  mad  plunge,  then  reared  violently,  almost 
standing  upright. 

Marcia  screamed,  Vance  snatched  at  his  rein,  but 
before  he  could  catch  it  he  was  dashed  to  the 
ground,  and  Red  Arrow,  true  to  her  name,  flew 
homeward  swift  as  the  shaft  sent  from  the  bow. 

With  a  second  cry  of  alarm  Marcia  reined  up  her 
horse  and  sprang  from  her  saddle,  to  hasten  to  her 
cousin. 

But  quick  as  she  was,  the  stranger,  who  had  been 
the  unlucky  cause  of  the  mishap,  was  quicker. 
Before  she  could  reach  Vance  he  was  bending  over 
the  fallen  rider,  saying  in  deep,  melodious  tones: 

"  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons!  I  fear  my  heed- 
less riding  frightened  your  horse!  I  sincerely  trust 
you  are  not  seriously  injured,  sir.  Can  you  rise 
with  my  help?" 

"Thanks,  but  I  do  not  require  help,"  answered 
Vance,  sitting  upright,  very  much  mortified  by  the 
accident.  "  I  am  not  at  all  hurt,  and  my  fall  was 
due  onl^to  my  own  carelessness," 


LOUIS  LTDRU.  13 

He  attempted  to  rise  to  his  feet,  while  the  stranger 
turned  and  bowed  deeply  to  Marcia,  his  dark,  lus- 
trous eyes  plainly  expressing  his  admiration. 

Marcia  returned  his  elaborate  bow  merely  by  a 
slight  inclination  of  her  pretty  head,  her  attention 
being  absorbed  in  Vance,  who  found  it  not  so  easy 
as  he  had  imagined  to  rise. 

His  right  ankle  would  not  support  his  weight, 
and,  after  one  or  two  attempts  to  stand,  he  gave  it 
up,  and  sank  back  with  a  smothered  exclamation  of 
pain. 

Marcia  dropped  on  her  knees  beside  him,  almost 
sobbing  in  her  distress. 

"  Oh,  Vance!  Vance!  Where  are  you  hurt? 
What  is  it?  What  can  we  do?  " 

"  Nothing,  Marcia,  but  compose  yourself.  I  be- 
lieve my  ankle  is  badly  sprained,  but  that  is  all. 
Indeed,  you  must  not  be  so  frightened,  dear  child." 

"  Why,  how  can  I  help  it,  Vance!  You  might 
have  been  killed!  " 

"  But  I  wasn't,  you  see!  Really,  there  is  nothing 
wrong,  except  my  ankle.  I  can  ride  home,  if  this 
gentleman  will  kindly  assist  me  to  mount  my  horse. " 

"  Your  horse  has  taken  French  leave,  Mr. 
Douglas,"  said  the  handsome  stranger,  stepping 
forward  and  raising  his  hat  politely,  as  he  added, 
with  a  dazzling  smile;  "  Am  I  not  right?  Havn't 
I  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Mr.  Vance  Douglas,  of 
Frankfort?  " 

"  I  am  certainly  Vance  Douglas,  but  " — with  a 
keen  look  at  the  stranger — "yes,  I  believe  I  do 
know  you !  Shall  I  be  wrong  if  I  say  Louis  LeDru , 
of  South  Carolina?  " 

"Entirely  right!"  cried  the  brilliant  stranger. 
"  I  knew  you  at  once,  though  we  have  not  met 
since  our  college  days." 

"  I  am  glad  to  welcome  you  to  Kentucky,  Mr. 
LeDru,"  said  Vance,  cordially,  extending  his  hand, 


14  LOUIS  L'DRU. 

not  allowing  his  pain  to  make  him  forget  his  natural 
courtesy.  "  Allow  me  to  present  you  to  my  cousin," 
Miss  Douglas.  Cousin  Marcia,  I  make  you 
acquainted  with  Mr.  LeDru,  of  Charleston,  an  old 
college  mate  of  mine." 

Marcia  kindly  acknowledged  the  introduction. 
The  handsome  Carolinian  again  bowed  low  with  a 
glance  which  said  plainly  as  he  dared  that  her 
beauty  and  sweetness  were  not  lost  upon  him. 

"  I  am  happy  and  honored  to  meet  Miss  Douglas, " 
said  the  deep,  musical  tones.  "  Fate  has  been  both 
kind  and  unkind  this  morning.  Though  I  exceed- 
ingly regret  the  manner  of  our  meeting,  I  could 
hardly  fail  to  be  glad  to  meet  my  old  friend,  and 
also  (with  another  low  inclination  to  Marcia)  the 
fair  daughter  of  my  father's  oldest  and  best  friend, 
Squire  Douglas." 

"  Indeed?"  said  Marcia,  kindly,  "  Then  you 
must  be  the  son  of  Simon  LeDru!" 

"  I  am,  at  your  service,  Miss  Douglas.  And  since 
his  name  seems  familiar  to  you,  I  infer  that  Squire 
Douglas  has  not  forgotten  his  old  friend." 

"  Oh,  no,  no!"  said  Marcia.  "  He  remembers 
him  well,  and  will  be  glad  to  receive  his  son  under 
the  roof  of  Douglas  Hall,"  she  added,  frankly. 

"You  do  me  too  much  honor,  Miss  Douglas," 
replied  the  courtly  LeDru.  "  You  will  understand 
how  I  appreciate  your  kindness,  when  I  tell  you 
that  I  am  at  present  on  my  way  to  visit  your 
father." 

An  ingenious  little  fiction  of  Louis  LeDru's! 
Up  to  his  chance  encounter  with  Vance  and  Marcia, 
he  had  not  even  remembered  that  his  father's  old 
friend  lived  in  the  state  which  he  was  visiting  merely 
for  his  own  pleasure. 

But  Marcia  could  not  know  this.  So  with  gen- 
uine Kentucky  hospitality,  she  said,  warmly, 


LOUIS  L'DRU.  15 

"  Nothing  could  give  us  all  greater  pleasure,  Mr. 
Le  Dru!" 

"  Thank  you  again ! "  said  Mr.  Louis,  with  another 
of  those  gallant  bows.  "  But  we  must  not  waste  a 
moment  here.  Mr.  Douglas,  since  your  horse  has 
flown,  will  you  accept  mine  and  allow  me  to  walk 
beside  you?" 

"  By  no  means!  "  cried  Vance.  "  But  if  you  will 
kindly  ride  beside  my  cousin  to  the  hall,  I  will  wait 
here  until  one  of  the  men  can  come  to  me. " 

"  Oh,  Vance,  no!  "  said  Marcia,  hastily.  "  The 
sun  grows  hotter  every  moment,  and  your  ankle 
will  be  fearfully  swollen  before  any  one  can  come. 
I  think  you  had  better  accept  Mr.  Le  Dru's  kind- 
ness, and"  —  at  that  instant  the  rattle  of  a  rapidly 
approaching  wagon  was  heard,  and  quickly  turning, 
Marcia  added,  "  Oh,  how  lucky!  Here  is  Sam,  with 
the  light  wagon. " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Marshy,  it  am  Sam,  jes'  in  time!  " 
cried. that  individual,  rattling  up,  stopping  the  wagon 
and  springing  from  it,  with  incredible  haste  (for 
him),  and  coming  close  to  Vance. 

"  Hi,  Marse  Vance!  Dat  fool  '  funelly  beas'  done 
did  what  I  tole  yer,  did  she?  Ax  yer  pardon  fur 
cussin,'  Miss  Marshy,  but  I'se  so  mad  at  dat  critter! 
She  come  a-rarin'  an'  a-tarin'  up  to  de  gate,  an'  jes' 
tuk  gate,  pos',  fence  an'  all,  at  one  clar'  jump!  I's 
jes'  drivin'  out,  gwine  to  mill,  an'  I  knowed  her, 
blame  her!  so  I  jes'  follered  her  tracks  hyar,  fas'  as 
I  could  drive!" 

"  Did  papa  see  her?"  asked  Marcia,  quickly. 

"  Yes'm,  Miss  Marshy,  de  squire  and  Miss  Mad'line 
bofe  out  on  de  piazzy,  an'  seed  her  jump  de  fence. 
Dey  don  got  de  breaf '  o'  life  skeert  plum  out'n  dere 
bodies,  too!  Dat  ar  cussed,  Tunally  beas'  need  her 
back  bruk  fur  dis  yer  piece  o'  wuk!  " 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Sam!"  ordered  Vance. 
"  There  is  no  harm  done,  worse  than  a  sprained 


16  "SATAN'S  WAV  TO  PARADISE." 

ankle.  But  I  am  glad  you  came,  for  you  can  drive 
me  home.  Was  the  horse  hurt?" 

"  Nary  scratch,  Marse  Vance!  Satan  done  tuk 
keer  o'  his  own,  dat  time!  " 

"  I'm  very  glad  of  it!  I  should  mind  it  much 
more,  if  she  had  come  to  harm." 

"  Hi!  here's  a  chap  dat  wouldn't,  den!"  muttered 
Sam. 

"  Now,  Marcia,"  said  Vance,  "  if  you  will  ride  on 
with  Mr.  LeDru,  and  relieve  the  alarm  at  the  house, 
Sam  and  I  will  follow  at  once." 

"Allow  us  first  to  assist  you  into  the  wagon," 
said  Mr.  LeDru. 

"  No,  thanks.  Sam  can  give  me  all  the  aid  I 
require,"  returned  Vance,  rather  proudly. 

"  Then  shall  I  have  the  honor  of  placing  you  in 
your  saddle,  Miss  Douglas?"  asked  Mr.  Louis, 
turning  to  Marcia,  and  gallantly  offering  his  hand. 

She  placed  her  small  foot  upon  his  palm,  and  let 
him  lift  her  to  her  seat. 

Then  he  mounted  his  own  horse,  and  rode  away 
by  her  side  to  carry  the  news  to  Douglas  Hall. 


CHAPTER  III. 
"SATAN'S  WAY  TO  PARADISE." 

"  In  the  mind  of  that  man 

At  that  moment,  there  shaped  itself  vaguely,  the  plan 
Of  a  purpose  malignant  and  dark." 

Meredith. 

AFTER  they  were  fairly  on  the  road,  Marcia  took 
her  first  real  look  at  Louis  LeDru.      And  her  judg- 
ment was,  "  He  is  the  handsomest- man  I  ever  sa 
in  my  life!" 

Indeed,  he  was  handsome  —  as  Lucifer  was  said 
once  to  have  been  the  most  beautiful  of  the  angels, 
as  well  as  the  wickedest! 


"SATAN'S  WAY  TO  PARADISE."          17 

She  did  not  venture  a  second  look,  for  Mr.  LeDru 
instantly  turned  the  thrilling,  magnetic  gaze  of  his 
dark  eyes  upon  hers  with  an  intensity  which  made 
them  drop  quickly,  and  brought  the  warm  blood 
swiftly  into  her  round  cheeks. 

"  Miss  Douglas, "  said  he,  "  when  I  set  out  to  visit 
your  father  this  morning,  I  had  no  idea  I  was  to  be 
so  favored  by  fortune. " 

In  the  last  part  of  that  sentence,  Mr.  Louis  for 
once  told  the  truth! 

But  Marcia  could  not  guess  that  the  first  part  was 
all  a  lie,  so  she  asked,  kindly: 

"  Did  you  come  to  Kentucky  on  purpose  to  see 
papa,  Mr.  LeDru?  " 

"  That  was  my  main  object,  Miss  Douglas. " 

"  Then  we  must  try  to  render  your  visit  apleasant 
one." 

"  Oh!  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  'try, '  indeed!" 
answered  Mr.  Louis,  with  a  meaning  glance.' 

Marcia  colored  again,  slightly  with  vexation,  as 
she  did  not  care  for  compliments. 

"  When  did  you  reach  Frankfort?"  she  asked. 

"  Last  night,  Miss  Douglas!" 

"  But  why  did  yofl  not  come  out  to  the  Hall  at 
once?"  pursued  Marcia,  innocently. 

"  Oh,  it  was  entirely  to  late  to  think  of  disturbing 
any  one  then,"  responded  Louis,  promptly. 

"  A  guest  never  disturbs  papa,  no  matter  at  what 
hour  he  comes,"  said  Marcia.  "  And  I  cannot  think 
of  anything  which  would  afford  him  greater  pleas- 
ure than  to  entertain  at  his  own  fireside,  your  father's 
son." 

Louis  bent  to  his  saddle-bow.  "Thank  you," 
uttered  he,  in  those  deep,  thrilling  tones,  as  though 
he  feared  to  trust  himself  to  say  more. 

Marcia  could  not  tell  why  his  magnetic  gaze 
should  embarrass  her  so.  To  regain  her  compo- 
sure, she  continued  : 


i8  "SATAN'S  WAV  TO  PARADISE." 

'  Vance  will  be  delighted,  too.  Did  I  under- 
stand you  to  say  you  were  classmates  ?  " 

"  For  three  years,  at  old  Yale,  Miss  Douglas  . 
If  I  remember  rightly,  he  lives  near  you,  doesnt 
he  ?  " 

"  With  us,  since  his  father's  death.  " 

"  Indeed  ?  I  was  not  aware  that  he  had  lost  his 
father. 

"  Yes,  Uncle  John  died  two  years  since,  and 
Vance,  at  my  father's  express  wish,  makes  his  home 
with  us,  managing  his  own  estate,  which  joins  ours, 
and  assisting  papa  besides.  Papa  thinks  he  could 
not  get  along  at  all  without  Vance." 

"  Happy  fellow  !  "  murmured  LeDru.  "  I  wonder 
if  he  knows  how  much  he  is  to  be  envied  !  " 

"  In  what,  Mr.  LeDru  ?  "  asked  Marcia,  inno- 
cently. 

"  In  living  under  the  same  roof  with  his  charming 
cousin  !  " 

"  Mr.  LeDru,  I  greatly  dislike  flattery,"  said 
Marcia,  very  haughtily. 

LeDru's  handsome  face  instantly  wore  an  expres- 
sion of  humble  penitence. 

"  I  sincerely  beg  pardon,  Miss  Douglas,"  said  he, 
"  I  should  not  have  offended,  but  you  see  I  am  a 
plain,  honest  sort  of  fellow  "  (if  Louis  had  possessed 
a  conscience,  wouldn't  it  have  hurt  just  then),  "  and 
so  apt  to  express  my  admiration  when  I  see  any- 
thing very  beautiful,  that  I  forgot  our  acquaintance 
was  only  measured  by  moments,  as  yet.  When 
you  know  me  better,  you  will  not  mistake  frank 
admiration,  even  though  bunglingly  expressed,  for 
mere  empty  compliment." 

His  manner  was  so  simple,  his  low  tones  so  dan- 
gerously thrilling,  how  could  Marcia  doubt  his  truth  ? 

She  gave  him  an  artless  look  and  smile,  and  said, 
sweetly, 

"  I  am  not  offended,  Mr.  LeDru." 


"SATAN'S  WAY  TO  PARADISE."  ig 

Louis  bowed  silently,  as  if  afraid  or  unwilling  to 
trust  himself  to  speak. 

Indeed,  before  he  could  have  spoken,  they  had 
reached  the  great  iron  gates,  which  were  swung 
open  by  two  little  negro  boys  who  were  on  the 
watch  for  them. 

Bidding  him  enter  with  a  pretty  wave  of  her  soft 
little  hand,  Marcia  looked  up  into  LeDru's  face, 
and  said,  quaintly: 

"  Welcome  to  Douglas  Hall,  Mr.  LeDru!  " 

But,  ah!  little  guessed  the  innocent  child  that 
she  was  welcoming  to  her  paradise  the  serpent  who 
had  come  to  blight  its  beauty! 

Louis  lifted  his  hat  with  courtly  grace,  and 
bowed  again,  almost  to  the  saddle  bow.  Then 
raising  his  fine  form  erect,  he  looked  directly  into 
Marcia's  honest  brown  eyes,  with  an  expression 
which  plainly  said  that  his  tongue  would  fail  to 
express  the  emotions  of  his  heart. 

They  cantered  gently  up  the  wide,  smooth  car- 
riage-way to  the.  house  where  Squire  Douglas  and 
Miss  Madeline  were  anxiously  waiting,  and  the 
negroes  were  gathered  at  the  corner  of  the  veran- 
dah, eager  to  hear  what  had  happened. 

A  vague  impulse  prompted  Marcia  to  wish  for 
her  father  to  help  her  from  her  horse. 

But  Louis  instantly  dismounted  and  stood  at  her 
side,  extending  his  arms  with  a  fine  gallantry  which 
poor  Vance,  true  gentleman  though  he  was,  could 
not  have  imitated  to  save  his  life. 

"  What  has  happened,  daughter?  "  asked  the  old 
squire,  hastening  to  meet  them  as  they  came  up  the 
steps.  "  We  have  been  terribly  frightened.  Where 
is  Vance?  " 

"  Coming,  papa,  with  a  sprained  ankle,"  said 
Marcia. 

"  Thank  the  Lord  it  is  no  worse  than  that  ! "  fer- 


"SATAN'S  WAY  TO  PARADISE." 

vently  ejaculated  the  old  gentleman.  "  But  you 
bring  us  a  guest,  Marcia. " 

"  Yes,  papa,  one  you  will  gladly  welcome,"  said 
Marcia,  smiling,  while  the  younger  man  reverently 
took  off  his  hat  and  stood  uncovered  before  the 
elder  one,  in  an  impressive  attitude. 

"  I  am  always  glad  to  welcome  a  guest, "said  the 
generous  old  Squire. 

"  But  doubly  so,  papa,  when  he  is  the  son  of  a 
dear  friend  !  This  is  Mr.  LeDru,  from  Charles- 
ton. " 

"  What  !  Simon  LeDru's  son  ?  Do  I  really  see 
Simon  LeDru's  son  ?"  cried  the  good  old  gentle- 
man, extending  his  hands  and  warmly  clasping 
those  of  the  young  man.  "  Are  you  Louis  LeDru, 
actually  Simon's  boy  ?" 

"  Himself,  and  no  other  !"  said  Louis,  heartily. 

"  Well,  well  !  I'm  glad  of  it !  I'm  glad  of  it  ! 
Both  hands,  sir,  both  hands  !  Why,  this  is  too 
good  to  be  true  !  that  Simon  LeDru's  son  has  really 
come  to  visit  his  father's  old  friend,  away  out 
here  in  Kentucky  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  has  taken  that  liberty,"  said  Louis, 
giving  as  winning  a  smile  to  the  silver-haired 
Squire  as  he  had  given  to  the  brown-haired  girl.  It 
being  Mr.  Louis's  rule,  as  it  was  Alexander  the 
Great's  to  conquer  all  men,  as  well  as  all  women  — 
so  far  as  he  could  ! 

"  Taken  the  liberty  ?  Done  us  the  honor,  you 
mean  !  Well,  sir,  welcome  to  Douglas  Hall  !  A 
thousand  welcomes  !  Here,  sister  Madeline,  come 
here,  come  here  !  Come  and  take  Simon  LeDru's 
boy  by  the  hand.  By  both  hands,  as  I  have  Louis, 
my  sister,  Miss  Madeline  Douglas." 

Louis  bent  over  the  plump  hand  which  Aunt 
Madeline  held  out  to  him  saying,  respectfully,  "  I 
have  often  heard  my  father  speak  of  Miss  Douglas. 
It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  meet  her. 


"SATAN'S  WAY  TO  PARADISE."  21 

"  None  the  less  so  to  us,  I  am  sure,"  said  Miss 
Madeline.  "  I  join  in  my  brother's  welcome  to  our 
house. " 

Louis  was  privately  wondering  if  there  was  no 
mistress  at  Douglas  Hall  save  herself,  when  the 
Squire  unconsciously  came  to  the  young  arch- 
schemer's  aid. 

"  Yes,  our  house,"  he  said.  "  You  may  remem- 
ber to  have  heard,  Louis,  that  Providence  was 
pleased  years  ago  to  remove  Marcia's  mother  from 
our  midst.  Since  then  my  sister  has  nobly  filled 
her  place  in  our  home.  " 

Now  Mr.  Louis  did  not  have  the  slightest  recol- 
lection of  ever  having  heard  of  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Douglas,  but  he  promptly  answered. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  remember.  I  am  sure  you  have  b.een 
fortunate  in  having  so  kind  a  sister. " 

"  Indeed  we  have!  Indeed  we  have!"  repeated 
Squire  Douglas,  warmly.  . 

"  My  brother  is  partial,"  said  Miss  Madeline, 
smiling.  "  Mr.  LeDru,  you  resemble  your  father 
very  much.  The  last  time  I  ever  saw  him  he  stood 
just  where  you  now  stand,  upon  these  very  steps." 

"  I  did  not  know,  or  have  failed  to  remember, 
that  he  was  ever  "here,"  observed  Louis,  adroitly, 
anxious  to  find  out  all  he  could. 

"  Yes,  he  spent  a  summer  here,  and  I  passed  a 
winter  in  Charleston  with  him,"  said  Squire 
Douglas.  "  But,  as  both  were  before  you  were 
born,  you  could  scarcely  be  expected  to  remember. 
You  were  quite  a  young  girl  yourself  then,  Maddy," 
he  added,  turning  to  his  sister. 

"  Yes,  quite  young,"  said  Miss  Madeline,  with  a 
smile  and  a  sigh.  Old  memories  stirred  tenderly  in 
the  gentle  heart  beating  under  Miss  Madeline's 
ample  bosom  at  the  sight  of  Simon  LeDru's  son. 

Once  she  had  been  very  near  marrying  Simon 
LeDru.  He  was  a  noble  man  and  loved  her  truly, 


22  "  SATAN'S  WAY  TO  PARADISE." 

and  she  had  hesitated  long  before  saying  no.  But 
she  could  not  desert  her  newly-widowed  brother 
and  his  orphan  child  in  their  hour  of  need.  She 
sent  the  lover  away  and  gave  her  life  to  those  who 
loved  her  at  home. 

She  had  been  happy,  in  spite  of  her  sacrifice,  and 
now,  notwithstanding  her  fifty  years,  was  still  fair, 
sweet  and  comely.  But  she  could  not,  even  now, 
look  with  indifference  upon  the  boy  who  might 
have  called  her  "mother."  Such  a  handsome 
young  fellow,  too,  and  so  like  his  father. 

Had  he  only  known  it,  Mr.  Louis  need  not  have 
been  at  half  so  great  pains  to  propitiate  Miss  Mad- 
eline. 

"  I  hope  you  came  all  this  way  on  purpose  to 
visit  us,  Louis,"  said  the  good  Squire. 

"  i  have  been  making  a  little  pleasure  trip  through 
the  west,  sir.  But  I  did  take  in  Kentucky  for  the 
express  purpose  of  visiting  you,"  said  Mr.  Louis, 
uttering  his  lie  as  glibly  as  though  it  were  the  truth. 

"That's  right!  That's  right!  Glad  of  it,  boy! 
When  did  you  reach  Frankfort?" 

"  Last  night,  sir,  by  way  of  Lexington  Junction, 
from  Louisville." 

"  Your  baggage  is  at  the  hotel  ?" 

"  At  the  Bramble  House,  sir." 

"  I'll  send  a  boy  over  for  it.  Now  we've  got  you 
we'll  not  let  you  go  in  a  hurry,  Louis." 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  remain,  Squire  Douglas," 
said  Mr.  Louis,  telling  the  truth  for  once  more. 

At  this  moment  a  cry  went  up  from  the  sable 
group  at  the  corner  of  the  verandah.  "  Dere  dey 
come  !  Dey're  a  comin'."  And  the  wagon  in 
which  were  Vance  and  Sam  rolled  up  the  broad 
drive. 

Squire  Douglas  was  down  the  steps  in  a  moment. 

"Why,  why,  Vance!     What's  all  this — what's 


WEAVING    THE   WEB.  23 

all  this?     Sure  it  is  nothing  worse  than  a  sprained 
ankle?  " 

"  Nothing  worse,  uncle,  I'm  glad  to  say. " 
"  Well,  by  George,  it's  bad  enough!  "  cried  the 
old  gentleman,  looking  over  the  side  of  the  wagon 
at  the  fearfully  swelled  ankle,  from  which  Sam,  by 
Vance's  orders,  had  cut  the  boot.  "  Here,  boys! 
one,  two,  half  a  dozen  of  you,  come  and  carry  him 
into  the  house,  and  let  somebody  ride  lik  Jehu  for 
Doctor  Burnett!  " 

But  to  this  Vance  would  by  no  means  submit. 
He  put  them  all  aside,  even  to  LeDru's  solicitous 
offer  of  assistance,  and  leaning  only  on  Sam's 
shoulder,  hobbled  up  to  his  own  room,  while  Squire 
Douglas  began  to  give  orders  for  the  comfort  and 
entertainment  of  his  unbidden  guest :. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WEAVING  THE   WEB. 

"  AUNT  MADDY,"  entreated  Vance,  as  he  was  fol- 
lowed up-stairs  by  a  curious  troop  of  house-serv- 
ants, "  send  them  all  away!  I  won't  have  it.  I 
won't  have  a  doctor,  either!  Just  let  Aunt  Nerve 
fix  up  something  to  stop  this  swelling,  and  that's  all 
I  need. " 

"  Go  down,  boys  and  girls,  every  one  of  you," 
was  Miss  Madeline's  order.  "  Rosa,  go  to  the 
dining-room  and  send  Nerve  up  with  a  bowl  of 
strong  vinegar  and  some  brown  paper;  then  go  to 
Miss  Marcia  at  once.  Don't  you  know  it  is  almost 
dinner-time?  " 

Rosa  hurried  out,  with  a  toss  of  her  comely  head 
which  made  her  new  ear-drops  twinkle,  and  speed- 
ily sent  her  mother,  or  "  Aunt  Nerve  "  as  she  was 
always  called,  to  Vance's  room. 


24  WEAVING  THE  WEB. 

Aunt  Nerve  was  the  head  of  the  house-servants, 
and  had  been  Marcia's  nur-ee  in  her  babyhood,  as 
well  as  her  attendant  ever  since,  until  Rosa  was  old 
enough  to  assume  the  position  of  waiting-maid. 

Since  which  time,  Aunt  Nerve  had  been  pro- 
moted to  the  post  of  chief  nurse,  and  assistant 
house-keeper,  though  it  is  doubtful  if  she  even  con- 
sidered herself  second  to  Miss  Madeline  in  that 
respect. 

Sitting  down  on  the  floor,  she  began  skillfully  to 
bind  up  Vance's  injured  ankle,  using  her  tongue  as 
briskly  as  her  fingers. 

"  Now,  Marse  Vance,  jes'  you  heave  dat  foot  up 
on  dis  hyar  stool,  an'  we'll  fix  it  in  less'n  no  time! 
Well!  'fore  de  Lord!  ef  dat  hain't  swelled  de  power- 
fullest!  You'se  not  set  dat  foot  to  de  flo  in  a 
month  o'  Sundays! 

"  Oh,  hush,  Aunt  Nerve!  You're  a  regular  Job's 
comforter,"  growled  Vance. 

"  Dunno  much  about  Job's  comforters,  honey, 
but  I  reckon  you'll  need  some  o'  his  patience  'fore 
dis  hyar  gits  well!"  calmly  went  on  the  privileged 
nurse.  "  Little  mo'  o'  dat  vinegar,  please,  Miss 
Mad'line.  Nuffin  better'n  brown  paper  an'  plenty 
o'  vinegar  for  a  sprain.  Dar  was  my  ole  man, 
Uncle  'Killus,  he  done  sprain  hissef  one  year,  right 
in  plantin'  time,  an'  I  'clar,  Tore  my  Hebbeuly  Mars- 
ter,  I  done  fetch  him  fro'  wid  not  a  singly  ting  but 
vinegar  an'  brown  paper.  'Deed,  did  //  " 

"  Well,  there,  that  will  do,  Nerve,"  said  Miss 
Madeline.  "  We  have  done  all  that  is  needful  just 
now.  You  go  down  and  see  that  they  get  dinner 
up  in  good  order.  We  have  company,  you  know.  " 

"  Laws,  yes,  Miss  Mad'line,  honey,  I  done  seed 
the  gen'lman!" 

"  He  will  remain  some  time,  so  you  and  Hitty 
will  have  a  chance  to  show  your  skill." 

"  Yes'm,  Hitty  cooks  far,  she  does,  "  said  Aunt 


WEAVING  THE  WEB.  25 

Nerve,  having  the  last  word  as  usual,  "  an'  wid  me 
to  boss  her,  she  kin  git  -long,  Hitty  kin.  We'll  see 
to  de  dinnah,  Miss  Mad'line." 

"  Do  you  feel  better,  Vance?"  asked  Miss  Maddy, 
as  Aunt  Nerve  disappeared. 

"  Yes,  aunty,  much  better.  I  wouldn't  mind  the 
confounded  thing  a  bit  if  it  didn't  keep  me  a  pris- 
oner. " 

"  I  hope  it  won't  do  that  very  long.  Try  to  take 
a  nap  before  dinner.  It  will  soon  be  ready,  and  I 
will  send  yours  up  here.  I  must  go  down  to  the 
parlor  a  little  while,  but  I  will  come  up  again  soon. 
Do  you  want  anything  before  I  go?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,  aunty." 

"  Try  to  rest,  then,  and  it  will  do  you  good." 

Miss  Madeline  left  the  room.  Vance  closed  his 
eyes  and  leaned  his  head  wearily  against  the  back  of 
his  great  easy  chair. 

Presently  light  footsteps  sounded  in  the  hall,  his 
door  opened,  and  Marcia  peeped  in  on  her  way 
down-stairs,  fresh  and  sweet  in  cool  robes  of  thin 
pink  tissue,  some  sprays  of  sweet-fern  fastened 
with  one  crimson  bud  upon  her  bosom. 

"  How  is  tlie  lame  foot?"  she  asked. 

"  Much  better.  Come  in,  please, "  replied  Vance, 
with  a  faint  smile. 

Marcia  tripped  over  and  stood  beside  him,  brush- 
ing the  damp,  golden  locks  from  his  forehead  with 
her  soft  fingers. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,  Vance!  That  was  an  unlucky 
ride,  wasn't  it?"  she  said,  with  more  truth  than  she 
knew. 

"  Oh,  this  is  nothing!"  said  Vance,  lightly.  "  It 
pains  me  some,  but  I  reckon  I  can  stand  that." 

"  Pains  you?  Yes,  I  should  think  it  did,  judging 
from  your  pale  face!" 

"  That  doesn't  matter.  It  will  soon  be  well. 
How  do  you  like  Mr.  LeDru,  Marcia? 


26  WEAVING   THE   WEB. 

"  I  can  hardly  tell  yet.  He  is  certainly  the  hand- 
somest man  I  ever  saw,  and  has  the  most  elegant 
manners.  Papa  has  already  invited  him  to  stay  all 
summer,  and  he  has  accepted  the  invitation.  Arn't 
you  glad?"  * 

"  Um  —  well — yes,  I  suppose  so!"  said  Vance, 
dryly. 

"  He  will  be  such  an  addition  to  our  little  pleasure- 
parties,  you  know!" 

"  Um  —  yes,  I  suppose  so! ':  said  Vance,  as  dryly 
as  before. 

"  He  is  so  handsome,  all  the  girls  will  be  sure  to 
fall  in  love  with  him!  " 

"  Um  —  yes,  I  suppose  so!"  said  Vance,  a  third 
time.  "  Don't  you  be  one  of  the  girls  in  that"  re- 
spect, Marcia!" 

"  Oh,  I'm  proof  !  "  laughed  Marcia.  "  There's  the 
bell,  I  must  go  down.  I'm  so  sorry  you  can't  come, 
too,  Vance.  Mr.  LeDru  will  miss  you  so  much." 

"  Bah!    If  you  miss  me,  I  don't  care  whether  Le-    *f  j; 
Dru  ever  thinks  of  me  at  all  or  not!" 

"  Why,  Vance!  I  thought  he  was  your  friend!" 

"  Well,  I  reckon  he  is.  But  he  isn't  my  little 
sister-cousin,  you  see!  Now  kiss  me  and  run  down, 
they  will  be  waiting  for  you.  " 

As  freely  and  innocently  as  if  he  had  been  her 
own  brother,  Marcia  bent  and  kissed  him.  As  she 
stooped,  the  fragrance  of  the  sweet  fern  upon  her 
bosom  was  borne  strongly  to  Vance's  senses. 

It  is  odd  how  small  a  thing  will  sometimes  last- 
ingly impress  us.  To  his  dying  day,  Vance  never 
inhaled  the  odor  of  sweet  fern  without  having  a 
vivid  picture  instantly  before  him  of  his  Cousin 
Marcia  as  she  stood  before  him  in  her  pink  robes 
that  bright  June  day. 

"  Good-by  now,  until  after  dinner,"  said  she. 

"  Will  you  come  up  again,  then?" 

"Yes." 


WEAVING  THE   WEB.  27 

"  Be  sure  you  don't  let  our  fascinating  guest  make 
you  forget  it. " 

"  Now,  Vance!  I've  a  notion  not  to  come,  to 
punish  you  for  that!  " 

"  Haven't  I  been  punished  enough  already, 
to-day?" 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you  have,  so  I'll  be  merciful. 
Good-by! " 

She  tripped  away,  while  Vance,  with  an  unusually 
grave  face,  watched  the  last  flutter  of  her  pink  robes 
disappear  as  the  door  closed  behind  her. 

Mr.  Louis  LeDru,  neither  so  tall  nor  so  heavy 
as  Vance  Douglas,  Was  yet  formed  in  perfect  sym- 
metry and  manly  proportions. 

His  complexion,  very  fair  in  spite  of  his  Southern 
origin,  was  rendered  almost  dazzling  by  contrast' 
with  his  jet-black,  curling  hair,  long  black  eyelashes 
and  fresh-colored  cheeks.  His  eyes  were  the  very 
blackness  of  darkness,  "  dark,  vivid  and  eloquent," 
with  a  wonderful  magnetism  in  their  unfathomable 
depths.  His  finely-cut  lips  were  of  the  richest 
crimson,  made  brighter  by  contrast  with  his  brilliant, 
white  teeth,  and  hardly  concealed  by  his  silky,  black 
mustache. 

Yet  far  from  being  merely  "  a  pretty  man,"  his 
appearance  was  manly  and  noble  to  an  unusual 
degree. 

His  graces  of  mind  were  no  less  striking  than  his 
graces  of  body.  He  was  the  personification  of 
high-bred,  cultivated  elegance.  In  fact,  he  was 
accomplished  in  everything  except  pure  goodness 
and  genuine  honor  and  honesty.  In  these,  Louis 
LeDru  never  had  learned,  never  was  likely  to  learn, 
the  first  and  simplest  rudiments. 

Marcia  was  by  turns  repelled,  attracted,  bewil- 
dered and  fascinated,  in  spite  of  herself. 

But  for  the  fact  that  her  whole  heart,  although 
yet  unknown  to  herself,  was  long  since  given  to 


28  WEAVING  THE   WEB. 

Vance,  she  would  certainly  have  "  fallen  in  love  " 
with  the  handsome  stranger  —  as  he  meant  she 
should  do,  from  the  very  first. 

Vance  knew  his  own  heart  well.  But  he  knew, 
too,  that  Marcia's  awakening  from  careless  girlhood 
to  noble  womanhood  had  not  yet  come.  She  was 
but  eighteen,  he  twenty-two.  They  were  yet  so 
young,  they  lived  under  the  same  roof  and  were 
always  together,  there  seemed  to  be  no  need  of 
haste.  And  so  Vance  waited  to  pluck  the  golden 
apples  of  life  —  until  Louis  LeDru  came  to  shake 
the  bough  ! 

Dinner  was  announced  as  soon  as  Marcia  came 
down.  The  little  party  proceeded  to  the  wide, 
spacious  dining-room  which  opened  upon  a  cool 
back  piazza. 

The  table  was  covered  with  finest  damask,  and 
glittering  with  costly  silver,  glass  and  priceless  china. 
No  one  who  has  ever  been  a  guest  in  one  of  these 
"  old  Kentucky  houses  "  needs  to  be  told  that  it 
was  luxuriously  spread. 

Mr.  Louis  exerted  himself  to  make  a  good  im- 
pression, and  succeeded  beyond  his  hopes. 

The  old  Squire  was  delighted,  Marcia  irresistibly 
charmed,  and  even  staid  Miss  Madeline  thought, 
with  a  sigh,  of  the  days  when  his  father  had  sat  at 
that  board  and  tried  to  win  her  for  his  bride,  and 
how  proud  she  would  now  be  if  this  handsome, 
black-eyed  Louis  could  call  her  "  mother. " 

After  dinner  the  small  circle  returned  to  the 
parlor. 

Poor  Vance  had  partaken  of  a  solitary  dinner  in 
his  own  room.  His  apartment  was  directly  over 
the  parlor,  and  the  sound  of  gay  voices  and  merry 
laughter  was  wafted  up  to  him  by  the  summer  wind, 
effectually  disturbing  the  slumbers  in  which  he  tried 
to  lose  himself. 

Vance  was  not  at  all  of  a  jealous  temperament, 


WEAVING   THE   WEB.  20 

but  it  was  hardly  consistent  with  human  nature  that 
he  could  be  content  to  be  a  prisoner  to  his  room, 
while  in  the  parlor  below  this  fascinating  Carolinian 
cast  his  witcheries  over  Marcia. 

Mr.  LeDru  had  taken  full  license  in  speaking  of 
his  friendship  with  Vance.  He  knew  that  the  col- 
lege acquaintance  by  no  means  warranted  the  name 
of  friendship. 

He  never  was  a  favorite  with  Vance.  There  were 
stories  afloat  in  those  old  days  of  things  which  the 
honorable  young  Kentuckian  could  by  no  means 
approve. 

But  as  a  guest  in  his  uncle's  house,  LeDru  was 
safe  against  one  hint  to  his  prejudice  from  Vance, 
and  sure  of  the  most  courteous  treatment.  And 
well  he  knew  it! 

But  Mr.  Louis  overlooked  one  point.  Their 
meeting  that  morning  had  not  come  about  so  aus- 
piciously as  to  make  Vance  forget  everything  to 
Louis'  discredit — rather  the  contrary. 

Kentuckians  are  all  born  riders,  and  very  sensi- 
tive on  the  subject  of  their  main  accomplishment. 
Vance  was  a  far  better  rider  than  Louis,  and  the 
accident  of  the  morning  was  a  source  of  deep  morti- 
fication to  him.  His  up-stairs  musings  were  not 
the  pleasantest  in  the  world,  nor  the  most  favorable 
to  Louis  LeDru. 

Marcia  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  promise  to 
come  up  again.  It  stung  poor  Vance  to  think  that 
she  was  already  so  charmed  with  their  imbidden 
guest  that  she  could  not  spare  one  moment  to 
brighten  his  suffering  hours. 

At  last,  weary  with  the  pain  of  his  ankle,  lonely 
and  depressed,  Vance  fell  asleep  in  his  chair  and 
dreamed  that  Marcia  and  LeDru  were  walking  on 
the  edge  of  a  terrible  precipice,  while  he,  struggling 
to  warn  them  of  their  danger  could  not  make  them 
hear  or  heed  him. 


3O  VAXCK    AND    FLORRY. 

But  Marcia  had  not  forgotten  him.  As  soon  as 
politeness  would  allow  her  to  leave  her  devoted 
guest  (and  the  time  was  not  so  long  as  it  seemed  to 
waiting  Vance) ,  she  came  up  to  redeem  her  promise. 

She  found  Vance  still  sleeping,  with  a  troubled 
look  on  his  fine  face,  and  stole  away  without  dis- 
turbing him. 

But  she  left  a  spray  of  sweet  fern  lying  upon  his 
folded  hands,  and  when  Vance  awoke,  he  knew  she 
had  been  there. 


CHAPTER  V. 

VANCE   AND   FLORRY. 

"  Oh,  merry  goes  the  time 
When  the  heart  is  young !" 

Old  Song. 

WHETHER  his  dream  was  a  meaningless  vision,  or 
the  workings  of  a  mind  so  stirred  that  even  in 
slumber  it  could  not  rest,  Vance  knew  not. 

But  putting  what  he  knew  of  the  past,  and  what 
he  could  guess  of  the  future,  he  felt  that  a  dangerous 
precipice  might,  indeed,  lie  in  Marcia's  pathway. 

And  whether  he  ever  won  her  for  himself  or  not, 
he  determined  to  save  her  if  he  could,  not  allowing 
even  one  day  to  pass  without  his  watchful  care 
around  her,  though  she  might  not  know  it  was 
there. 

When  Aunt  Madeline  came  up  next  morning,  he 
told  her  not  to  send  his  breakfast  up,  for  he  was 
coming  down. 

"  Indeed,  you  must  not  think  of  it,  Vance!  "  re- 
monstrated Miss  Maddy. 

"  But  I  do  think  of  it,  Aunty,  and  I'm  coming 
down,"  insisted  Vance.  "  Are  there  not  a  pair  of 
old  crutches  somewhere  round  the  house?  " 


VANCE   AND   FLORRY,  31 

"  Yes,  up  garret,  I  believe.  But  you  had  better 
not  go  down  to-day,  Vance.  It  may  hurt  you  seri- 
ously. " 

"  Not  a  bit  worse  than  to  fret  up  here,  aunty! 
I'm  not  going  to  be  cuddled  like  a  baby  over  noth- 
ing but  a  sprained  ankle!  Just  send  Sam  to  look 
up  those  crutches,  please!  " 

Miss  Madeline  knew  that  when  Vance  would  have 
his  way,  he  would,  so  she  called  Sam,  the  crutches 
were  brought  from  the  garret,  and  Vance  hobbled 
into  the  dining-room,  just  as  the  family  were  sitting 
down  to  breakfast. 

"  Why,  hallo,  my  boy!  Able  to  be  about 
already?  "  was  the  Squire's  greeting. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Couldn't  be  a  prisoner  any  longer! 
Good  morning,  Marcia!  Good  morning,  Mr.  Le- 
Dru." 

"  Good  morning,  Vance.  I'm  glad  you  are  bet- 
ter," said  Marcia,  with  a  bright  smile. 

Mr.  Louis,  his  handsome  face  expressing  deep 
delight,  rose  from  his  chair  and  warmly  shook  hands 
with  Vance,  saying: 

"  Good  morning,  good  morning!  I  am  indeed 
happy  if  the  accident  of  which  I  was  the  unfortun- 
ate cause,  prove  but  slight.  You  Kentucky  fellows 
must  be  blessed  with  plenty  of  pluck,  Douglas,  or 
you  would  not  be  on  foot  to-day." 

"  There  are  worse  things  than  a  sprained  ankle," 
returned  Vance,  lightly,  as  he  took  his  seat  at  the 
table.  "  Mine  shall  not  longer  prevent  me  from 
enjoying  your  social  circle." 

"  Nor  a  bit  of  this  boiled  trout,  either,"  said 
Squire  Douglas,  placing  a  nicely-browned  piece  on 
Vance's  plate.  "  These  are  from  our  own  river, 
Louis.  Do  you  have  anything  finer  in  this  line 
down  in  Carolina?  " 

"  No,  sir,  we  do  not,"  answered  Mr.  Louis,  who 
was  a  devoted  lover  of  the  pleasures  of  a  well-spread 


32  VANCE   AND    FLORRY. 

table.  "  I  never  tasted  finer  fish.  In  fact,  I  seem 
to  have  been  blessed  with  an  excellent  appetite 
ever  since  I  reached  Kentucky." 

"That's  right!  That's  right,  Louis!  We  want 
people  to  enjoy  eating  while  they  are  with  us.  And, 
by  the  way,  youngsters,  Louis  will  find  the  old 
hall  very  dull  unless  you  give  him  some  entertain- 
ment. You  must  show  him  our  country  society.  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  could  not  have  more  charming 
society  than  I  find  here!  "  protested  Mr.  Louis, 
with  a  glance  at  Marcia,  which  did  not  escape 
Vance. 

"  Of  course  we  mean  to  do  something  for  enter- 
tainment, papa,"  said  Marcia.  "  Can  you  suggest 
a  beginning  for  to-day?  But  remember  Vance 
can't  go  out,  and  we  will  not  leave  him  alone." 

"  Never  mind  me,"  put  in  Vance. 

But  the  Squire  answered:  "  Send  for  somebody 
to  come  here  then.  The  Leslie's  and  Florry 
Edwards." 

"  Good!  "  cried  Marcia.  "  Papa,  that's  a  grand 
idea  of  yours!  We'll  act  on  it  immediately!  Just 
the  nicest  girls,  Mr.  LeDru!  I  shall  insist  upon 
your  falling  in  love  with  May  Leslie  straightway!  " 
And  she  gave  him  an  arch,  laughing  glance. 

"  Yesterday  I  might!  To-day  I  am  in  no  dan- 
ger," said  LeDru,  in  a  low  tone,  as  they  passed  out 
of  the  dining-room. 

"Nonsense!"  returned  Marcia,  blushing  rosily, 
and  hurrying  away  from  him  to  send  the  invita- 
tions. 

Vance  overheard  Louis's  low  words,  too,  and 
ground  his  teeth  hard,  but  kept  silent  —  for  the 
present. 

Marcia's  messenger  promptly  returned,  saying 
the  invitations  were  all  accepted,  and  the  young 
folks  would  come  over  early,  so  as  to  avoid  the 
heat. 


VANCE   AND    FLORRY.  33 

Miss  Madeline  at  once  carried  the  news  to  her 
satellites  in  dining-room  and  kitchen,  desiring  Aunt 
Nerve  to  see  that  everything  came  up  in  proper 
order,  and  saying  she  would  speak  to  Hitty  also. 

"  Laws,  now,  Miss  Mad'line,"  said  the  privileged 
old  servant,  "  dar  ain't  no  use  ob  worritin'  yerself 
wid  dem  kitchen  niggahs!  Fse  able  to  boss  dem 
yit  awhile,  an'  Hitty  kin  cook  fur  de  president  his- 
sef — ef  he  eber  comes  along!  I'll  say  dat  fur 
Hitty,  ef  her  an'  me  does  disagree  'bout  de  bes' 
way  ob  doin'  tings,  sometimes!  Bettah  leabe  it  to 
me,  Miss  Mad'line,  honey,  'deed  hadjj/<?///" 

"  Well,  well,  Nerve,  have  it  your  own  way!  Only 
see  that  all's  right,"  said  good-natured  Aunt  Made- 
line, as  she  laughingly  beat  a  retreat  from  the  din- 
ing-room. 

"  Reckon  I'se  able  to  do  dat  /"  grumbled  Aunt 
Nerve,  when  she  found  herself  alone.     "  We's  had , 
comp'ny  a  time  or  two  afore  now,  in  dis  housef" 
Me  an'  Hitty  Douglas  kin  git  up  a  dinner  dat  eben 
dem  dar  high-flying  Car'liny  big-bugs  dassent  turn 
up  dey're  noses  at!" 

The  last  sentence  was  spoken  in  tones  of  strong 
contempt,  for  Aunt  Nerve,  at  first  sight,  had  taken 
an  intense  dislike  to  Mr.  LeDru. 

"  Need'n'  tell  me!"  she  had  expressed  herself  in 
the  kitchen,  where  her  opinions  were  generally  re- 
ceived with  reverential  awe.  "  Need'n'  tell  me! 
Dem  ar'  eyes  o'  his'n  too  black  an'  shiny!  His  teef 
too  white  an'  shows  too  much  when  he's  a  smilin'! 
Makes  me  tink  o'  Sam's  little  cur  dog,  'deed  does 
he!  Nebbah  has  no  use  fur  folkses  dat  shows  dey 
teef  an'  de  whites  o'  dere  eyes  too  much!  Dat'll  do 
fur  niggaks  —  comes  nat'chl  to  dem.  But  furhigh- 
toppin'  white  folks  —  go  'long,  niggahs!  Ye  kain't 
fool  ole  Aunt  Nerve!  She  done  libed  too  long  fur 
dat!" 

But  for  once  Aunt  Nerve's  opinion  failed  to  be 


34  VANCE   AND    FLORRY. 

popular  in  the  kitchen.  Mr.  Louis  was  lavish  in 
bestowing  his  smiles  and  small  coin  among  the 
negroes,  and  they  were  nearly  all  ready  to  fall  down 
and  worship  him. 

The  first  guests  to  arrive  at  the  Hall,  were  Mag 
and  Myra  Leslie,  accompanied  by  their  harum- 
scarum,  good-hearted  brother  Dick. 

Dick  was  taken  at  once  to  the  parlor  and  pre- 
sented to  Mr.  LeDru. 

The  girls  were  attended  up-stairs  to  take  off  their 
things,  by  Marcia  herself. 

They  were  full  of  kindly  concern  for  Vance's  acci- 
dent, and  of  girlish  curiosity  concerning  the  young 
Carolinian  who  had  so  unexpectedly  appeared  upon 
the  scene. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  you've  got  a  new  beau, 
Miss  Sly-boots!"  said  Maggie,  shaking  out  the  folds 
of  her  scarlet-trimmed,  black  grenadine. 

"  Oh,  no!  I'm  going  to  give  him  to  you!"  was 
Marcia's  laughing  answer. 

"  No,  no,  Marcia;  say  me  !  "  cried  Myra,  who  was 
looking  even  prettier  than  usual  in  the  lilac  summer 
silk  and  dainty  laces  so  becoming  to  her  fair  com- 
plexion and  gold-red  hair.  "  Say  me!  Mag  knows 
Lou  Edwards  wouldn't  let  her  look  at  him!" 

"  Like  to  see  Lou  Edwards  help  himself  !  "  retorted 
saucy  Mag. 

"  Whoever  can  get  him  is  welcome  to  him,"  said 
Marcia.  "  I  am  not  going  to  appropriate  him." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it!  Dick  would  go  hang  himself 
if  you  did,"  said  Maggie. 

"  No  danger!     Ready  to  go  down,  girls?" 

They  were  quite  ready,  and  at  once  descended  to 
the  parlor  to  pass  muster  under  Mr.  LeDru's  kill- 
ing eyes,  both  mentally  pronouncing  him  "  splen- 
did." 

Mr.  Louis  usually  carried  womankind  by  storm. 

The  introductions  were  hardly  over  when  Florence 


VANCE  AND   FLORRY.  35 

and  Lionel  Edwards  were  announced,  and  the  cere- 
mony was  repeated  for  their  benefit. 

Dick  Leslie  did  not  take  to  Mr.  Louis  at  all,  and 
he  seized  the  first  opportunity  to  say  to  Marcia, 
unheard  by  the  rest. 

"  See  here  Marcia,  don't  you  let  that  black-eyed, 
curly-pated  young  Jack-a-dandy  make  you  turn  the 
cold  shoulder  to  us  homespun  fellows!  We  won't 
stand  it,  you  know!" 

Hush,  Dick!"  retunied   Marcia.     "  I  won't  let 
you  speak  so  discourteously  of  our  guest.  " 

"  Oh,  no  offense  meant,"  said  Dick.  "  He  may 
be  a  first-rate  fellow,  only  I  can't  say  I  quite  admire 
his  dancing-master  style,  confound  him!  But  its 
all  right  if  you  won't  be  too  polite  to  him." 

"  I'm  in  no  danger,  Dick,  besides  I've  selected  him 
for  your  future  brother-in-law." 

"Oh,  you  have,  have  you!  It's  all  satisfactory 
then!  If  the  girls  can  stand  it,  I  can.  Only  don't 
select  him  for  yourself." 

"  I  won't,  I  promise  you;  besides,  Dick,  I've  firmly 
made  up  my  mind  to  be  an  old  maid." 

"  Nonsense,"  replied  Dick,  shortly. 

But  Florence  and  Myra  came  up  at  that  instant, 
and  the  conversation  was  interrupted,  for  which 
Marcia,  at  least,  was  grateful.  She  was  not  at  all  a 
coquette,  and  whenever  Dick  began  to  make  love 
to  her,  she  cut  him  off  in  the  shortest  manner  pos- 
sible. 

The  day  passed  very  pleasantly.  The  young 
people  kept  up  such  a  merry  tumult  that  the  spirit 
was  contagious,  and  Squire  Douglas  was  induced 
to  forsake  his  library  and  join  them  long  before 
dinner. 

And  such  a  dinner  !  Aunt  Nerve  and  old  Hitty 
had  out-done  themselves  for  the  occasion,  and 
spread  a  feast  fit  for  a  king,  to  which  ample  justice 
was  done  by  young  and  old. 


36  VANCE   AND    F LORRY. 

In  the  afternoon  they  had  a  game  of  croquet  on 
the  lawn.  Vance,  of  course,  could  not  join  it,  and 
Florence  did  not  care  to  play.  They  had  an  even 
six  without  her,  so  her  excuse  was  accepted,  and 
while  the  others  went  out  upon  the  lawn  she  sat  by 
the  long,  wide,  open  parlor  window  with  Vance, 
and  watched  the  game. 

Next  to  Marcia,  Vance  regarded  Florry  as  his 
dearest  girl  friend,  and  knowing  she  could  not  be 
more,  Florence  was  glad  to  have  that  place. 

For  a  few  moments  they  sat  silent,  looking  at  the 
gay  group  outside,  listening  to  the  click  of  mallet 
and  ball,  and  the  sound  of  their  merry  laughter. 

Then  Florence  heard  Vance  sigh  heavily.  Glanc- 
ing up,  she  saw  him  lean  his  head  wearily  against 
the  back  of  his  chair,  gazing  with  thpughtful  eyes 
out  upon  the  lawn. 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Vance  !"  she  said, 
gaily. 

Vance  recalled  himself  at  once.  "  Not  worth  it, 
Florry,"  he  responded.  "  But  I  apologize  for  my 
rudeness  ;  I  forgot  that  it  must  be  dull  work  for 
you  sitting  here  with  a  cross-grained  invalid." 

"  Not  at  all ;  I  really  did  not  wish  to  play,  and 
I  don't  consider  you  cross-grained,  though  you  do 
seem  out  of  your  usual  good  spirits  to-day.  I  sup- 
pose that  unfortunate  foot  is  to  blame  for  that. " 

"  Not  altogether.  It  does  fret  a  fellow  some- 
what to  be  tied  to  a  chair  when  he  likes  to  be 
active,  but  it  isn't  that  troubles  me.  I  own  to 
being  out  of  sorts  though,  Florry." 

"  Find  it  a  pleasant  feeling?"  asked  Florry,  mis- 
chievously. 

"  Not  at  all.     I  couldn't  give  you  a  reason  for  it 
either,  except  an  z/«reasonable  one.  " 
Suppose  you  give  that  one,  then." 

"  I  am  not  even  sure  I  can.  But  —  Florry,  did 
you  never  feel,  without  knowing  why,  as  if  some 


VANCE  AND    FLORRY.  3) 

great  trial  was  before  you?  Some  crisis,  beyond 
which  life  would  never  seem  just  the  same?" 

Ah,  had  not  the  gentle  girl  known  such  hours? 
The  soft  light  in  her  sweet  eyes  saddened  as  she 
answered,  "  Yes,  Vance,  I  have  had  those  feelings, 
more  than  once. " 

"  Did  they  result  in  anything,  Florry?" 

"  I  have  always  thought  so.  Once  was  beL-re 
my  mother  died.  She  was  ill  only  two  days,  died 
very  suddenly." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Vance.  He  waived  a 
moment  as  if  expecting  her  to  say  more.  But 
Florry  could  not  tell  him  that  the  second  time  she 
had  those  strange  feelings  was  when  she  discovered 
her  love  for  him,  and  fought  the  battle  to  crush  it 
out  of  her  heart. 

Vance  was  very  far  from  guessing  that  such  had 
ever  been  the  case.  Presently  he  said,  "  I  hardly 
suppose  I  could  call  my  unpleasant  feelings  a  pre- 
sentiment or  anything  of  that  sort.  And  no  doubt 
you  would  laugh  at  me  if  I  said  I  had  a  bad  dream 
yesterday,  and  could  not  rid  myself  of  the  impres- 
sion it  left." 

"  No,  Vance,  I  would  not  laugh.  I  can't  say  I 
believe  much  in  dreams,  but  bad  ones  are  not 
pleasant  enough  to  be  laughing  matters,  at  least.'.' 

"  No,  I  have  not  pinned  my  faith  to  them  either. 
But  I  do  believe  that  it  is  true  that  our  dreams  are 
often  'the  echoes  of  our  waking  thoughts.'"  He 
paused  a  moment,  then  as  Florry  seemed  waiting 
for  him  to  speak,  he  went  on:  "I  believe,  that  is,  I 
fear  I  may  have  some  reason  to  expect  changes 
and  perhaps  trouble." 

Florence  hesitated  a  moment,  then  she  said  : 
"  Anything  you  are  willing  to  confide  to  a  true 
friend,  Vance  ?  " 

He  gave  her  a  grateful  glance,  and  said:  "There 
is  really  nothing  to  confide,  as  yet.  But  if  there 


38  VANCE  AND   FLORRY. 

should  be,  Florry,  may  I  come  to  you  ?  If  I  need 
a  friend,  I  mean." 

"  You  could  not  give  me  more  pleasure,  Vance," 
said  Florence,  quietly. 

"  Thank  you,  then.  You  have  always  been  more 
like  a  sister  than  a  friend  to  me,  Florry. " 

"  Then  come  to  me  freely,  as  you  would  to  a 
sister,  Vance.  I  will  not  betray  your  trust." 

"  I  am  sure  of  that.  There  is  no  one  in  the 
world  I  would  trust  more  freely." 

There  was  silence  between  them  for  a  little  while. 
Vance  suddenly  broke  it  with  : 

"  Florry,  how  do  you  like  Mr.  LeDru  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  very  handsome  man,"  said  Florence. 

Vance  instantly  saw  that  her  words  were  not  an 
answer  to  his  question,  but  he  was  too  well-bred  to 
press  the  point.  So  he  observed  :  "  There  could 
hardly  be  two  opinions  on  that  point. " 

"  Were  you  very  intimate  friends  in  college  ?  " 
asked  Florence. 

"  No,  mere  acquaintances,  like  dozens  of  other 
fellows. " 

"  I  supposed  you  were,  by  his  coming  so  far  to 
visit  you. " 

"  I  am  not  so  much  honored.  His  visit  is  made 
to  my  uncle,  I  believe.  His  father  and  uncle  Samuel 
were  life-long  friends,  almost  like  brothers.  The 
elder  LeDru  is  dead.  He  was  not  at  all  like  his 
son,  if  I  remember  him  rightly.  But,  naturally, 
Louis  wished  to  visit  his  father's  old  friend,  and  was 
on  his  way  here  when  we  met  him  yesterday." 

"  His  coming  did  not  seem  to  herald  good  luck 
to  you,"  said  Florence.  The  instant  the  words 
were  spoken,  she  regretted  them. 

For,  though  the  thought  was  unspoken,  in  both 
their  hearts  there  was  the  feeling  that  the  changes 
Vance  feared  would  come  through  Mr.  LeDru. 

Quick-sighted,  practical  Florry  saw   through  the 


VANCE   AND    FLORRY.  39 

delicate  veil  of  that  young  gentleman's  fascinations, 
and  while  she  did  not  deny  his  beauty  and  accom- 
plishments, she  did  doubt  his  truth  and  goodness. 

But  Vance  seemed  hardly  to  notice  her  unlucky 
words,  for  with  his  own  last  sentence,  an  odd  thought 
struck  him. 

If  Mr.  LeDru,  as  he  said,  had  been  on  his  way 
to  Douglas  Hall,  why  did  they  meet  him  coming 
from  the  south  end  of  the  road,  which  led  from  the 
falls,  not  from  Frankfort?  A  rider  from  town  would 
have  turned  the  bend  from  the  north,  not  from  the 
south. 

Vance  had  noticed  this  slight  circumstance  before. 
Now  it  occurred  to  him  unpleasantly.  Was  there 
an  explanation  of  it,  or  had  Mr.  LeDru  deliber- 
ately lied,  the  very  first  thing? 

He  resolved  not  to  allude  to  the  incident,  but  to 
seek  an  early  explanation  from  Louis  himself. 

Before  he  could  have  spoken,  had  he  been  so 
minded,  the  croquet  players  came  in  and  the  con- 
versation became  general. 

An  early  supper  was  spread,  not  in  the  dining- 
room,  but  on  the  cool  back  piazza,  where  the  sunset 
breeze  came  gently  in  laden  with  sweets  from  garden 
and  field. 

And  notwithstanding  the  bountiful  dinner  our 
little  party  did  ample  justice  to  the  fragrant  tea, 
broiled  chickens  and  snowy  rolls  for  which  Aunt 
Hitty  was  so  famous,  as  well  as  the  dainty  sponge 
cake,  golden  honey,  ruby  preserves  and  delicious 
raspberries  fresh  from  the  garden. 

The  yellow  moon  was  peeping  over  the  hill-tops 
before  our  young  friends  separated,  and  after  many 
warm  good-nights  and  hospitable  invitations  the 
visitors  rode  away  in  the  bright,  dewy,  summer 
moonlight. 


4O  "COOL   GROT   AND    MOSSY   DELL." 

CHAPTER  VI. 

"  COOL  GROT  AND    MOSSY  DELL." 

"  Away  to  the  woods,  away, 
To  the  summer  woods,  away. 
By  the  cool,  white  fall, 
Where  watersprites  call, 
To  the  mossy  dell 
Where  fairies  dwell, 
For  the  long,  bright  day,  away,  away. 

— Anon. 

THE  visit  at  Douglas  Hall  was  only  the  beginning 
of  a  merry  round  of  calls,  tea-parties,  picnics,  rides 
and  rambles  enjoyed  by  our  young  folks,  to  many 
of  which  friends  from  Frankfort  and  Lexington 
were  invited. 

And  at  all  of  these  Mr.  LeDru  was  the  leading 
lion  and  bright  particular  star  —  of  the  ladies. 

More  gentlemen  than  Vance  would  have  seen 
him  take  his  departure  for  the  "  sunny  South"  with- 
out one  regret. 

Vance  only  allowed  his  lame  foot  to  imprison  him 
for  a  few  days;  then  he  joined  their  pleasure  parties 
as  cheerfully  as  if  not  a  care  clouded  his  mind. 

He  had  not  forgotten  the  question  he  meant  to 
ask  Louis,  but  he  waited  for  an  opportunity  to  do 
so  without  exciting  that  astute  young  gentleman's 
suspicions. 

One  morning  they  were  talking  of  a  picnic  to  the 
falls,  when  he  turned  to  Louis  and  remarked, 
carelessly,  "  By  the  way,  LeDru,  you  have  visited 
the  falls,  have  you  not?  " 

"  I  have  not  had  that  pleasure,"  answered  Louis. 
"  Why  do  you  think  so?  " 

"  Only  because,  if  I  remember  rightly,  you  were 
coming  from  that  direction  '  the  morn  when  first  we 
met.'" 

"  But  I  did  not  '  wear  a  wreath  of  roses,'  "  an- 
swered LeDru,  laughingly  continuing  Vance's  quo- 


"COOL   GROT   AND   MOSSY   DELL."  41 

tation.  "  I  had  only  missed  the  turn  of  the  road 
which  I  had  been  told  led  to  Douglas  Hall,  and  as 
soon  as  I  discovered  my  mistake  I  turned  and  gal- 
loped back  to  find  it,  finding  you  instead. " 

His  explanation  was  so  naturally  given,  that  even 
Vance  accepted  it  in  good  faith.  Silly  Vance,  to 
imagine  that  so  old  a  deceiver  as  Louis  LeDru 
could  be  caught  in  a  trap  so  simple! 

It  was  so  seldom  Mr.  LeDru  spoke  the  truth, 
let  us  give  him  all  the  benefit  possible  for  doing 
so.  This  time  he  spoke  truly  so  far  —  he  had  not 
seen  the  falls.  He  turned  back  because  the  road 
did  not  look  interesting,  and  he  was  not  aware 
either  that  the  falls  lay  beyond,  or  the  old  Hall 
behind. 

He  had  even  forgotten  the  existence  of  the  Doug- 
las family,  until  he  met  Vance  and  Marcia  so  unex- 
pectedly. 

He  was  really  taking  a  pleasure  trip,  for  reasons 
of  his  own,  and  had  indulged  in  the  morning  gallop 
from  the  hotel  in  Frankfort  on  a  livery  horse  merely 
for  recreation. 

The  truth  which  he  did  not  tell  was  that  Mr. 
Louis's  affairs  in  the  South  were  so  involved  that 
his  absence  for  a  time  was  very  desirable,  and  just 
now  he  was  in  need  of  a  quiet  place  in  which  to 
pass  the  summer. 

Good  luck  seemed  to  have  fallen  at  his  feet!  Here 
was  an  elegant  home  open  to  him,  most  generous 
hospitality,  and  —  a  charming  girl,  the  heiress  of  a 
great  fortune. 

Mr.  LeDru  promptly  decided  to  stay,  and  become 
the  future  master  of  Douglas  Hall,  if  he  possibly 
could  —  notwithstanding!  But  that  sentence  Mr. 
Louis  was  very  careful  never  to  finish,  even  in  the 
silence  of  his  own  chamber,  so  no  one  could  say 
"  notwithstanding  "  what? 


42  "  COOL   GROT   AND   MOSSY   DELL." 

"  Papa,  won't  you  go  with  us  to-day?  "  asked 
Marcia,  resuming  their  talk  of  the  picnic. 

"  Thanks.  No,  I  believe  not,"  replied  the  Squire. 
"  I  prefer  my  newspaper  and  a  nap  in  my  chair  to 
racing  over  hills  and  hollows  at  the  speed  of  you 
youngsters. " 

"  That  is  your  misfortune,  uncle,"  said  Vance, 
laughingly. 

"  Likely,  boy,  likely!  But  I'm  not  so  young  as  I 
once  was,  you  see.  I  wish  you  all  a  fine  day  at  the 
falls,  however.  I  suppose  you  take  a  hamper  of 
'  creature  comforts  '  with  you?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  papa.  Aunt  Maddy  saw  to  that  part. 
We  are  to  have  dinner  on  the  grass,  al  fresco, 
though  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  that  means." 

"  It  means  all  bugs  free  to  scamper,  in  this  case, 
Miss  Marcia,"  said  LeDru,  gravely. 

"  That  is  what  they  always  do  at  picnic  dinners," 
said  the  Squire,  as  they  all  laughed  at  Louis's  sally. 
"  Well,  a  good  time  to  you.  Only  don't  have  any- 
body jumping  the  falls  this  time." 

"  Was  that  ever  done?  "  asked  Louis. 

"  Yes,  once,  if  the  county  legends  are  to  be  be- 
lieved. They  say  a  poor,  lovesick  Indian  maiden 
took  a  flying  leap  over  the  cliff,  many  years  ago,  on 
account  of  a  false  sweetheart." 

"  A  romance!"  cried  LeDru.  "  Tell  us  the  story, 
Squire,  won't  you?" 

"  Not  now.  Let  Vance  tell  it  on  the  spot,  to- 
day. He  knows  the  legend,  and  is  a  better  story- 
teller than  I  am." 

"  You  hear  that,  Douglas?  We  shall  claim  the 
story  from  you.  It  will  be  new  to  me,  and  perhaps 
to  others. " 

"  It  will  be  new  to  me,  too,"  said  Marcia.  "  I 
don't  think  I  ever  heard  it." 

"  It  will  interest  many,  as  it  has  passed  from  the 
memory  of  most  people,"  said  the  Squire, 


"COOL   GROT   AND   MOSSY   DELL."  43 

"  Very  well,  I'll  repeat  it  the  best  I  can,"  said 
Vance,  as  they  rose  from  the  table. 

As  Marcia  chanced  to  pass  her  father,  she  heard 
him  sigh  lightly.  Quickly  slipping  her  arm  through 
his,  and  looking  up  into  his  kind  old  face,  she  said, 
laughingly: 

"  Your  escort,  if  you  please,  Squire  Douglas!" 

She  led  him  to  his  favorite  seat  on  the  cool,  front 
verandah,  brought  him  his  Frankfort  Morning  Jour- 
nal, and  parting  the  silvery  hair  from  his  broad 
brow,  she  said,  affectionately: 

"  My  darling  old  papa,  I  fear  our  giddy  round 
has  left  you  too  much  alone  of  late.  Do  you  miss 
me,  when  I  am  gone?" 

"I  always  miss  my  little  girl,"  returned  the  old 
gentleman,  "  but  I  don't  want  to  tie  her  bright 
youth  down  to  my  dull  old  age.  I  want  her  to  run 
about  and  enjoy  herself." 

"  I  couldn't  do  that,  papa,  dear,  if  I   knew  you? 
were  lonesome  at  home.     Wouldn't  you  rather  I  $ 
stayed  with  you  to-day?" 

"  By  no  means,  daughter!  Besides,  I  shall  be  in 
Frankfort  nearly  all  day,  on  business. " 

"  All  right,  then,  I'll  go  to  the  falls.  But 
remember,  I  shall  always  gladly  leave  any  merry- 
making to  stay  with  my  dear  old  papa." 

"  That's  my  darling  girl!  I  know  you  would. 
Run  along,  now,  and  get  your  furbelows  on,  or 
they'll  be  waiting." 

"  Only  Mr.  LeDru,  papa.  Vance's  ankle  is  yet 
too  weak  to  ride  on  horseback.  He  is  to  drive 
Florry  over  in  his  buggy." 

"  Oh,  is  he?     All  right,  then!     Good-by!  " 

Marcia  bent  to  kiss  him  fondly,  and  hurried 
away,  the  old  squire's  loving  gaze  following  her 
until  she  was  out  of  sight. 

When   she   came   down-stairs    Mr.    LeDru    was 


44  "  COOL   GROT   AND    MOSSY   DELL." 

waiting  for  her  on  the  steps,  while  Sam  and  Pete 
held  the  horses. 

"  Am  I  very  tardy?  "  asked  Marcia,  hastily  but- 
toning her  glove. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  have  only  just  come  down,  my- 
self," answered  Louis,  giving  her  a  brilliant  smile. 
"  Here,  Sam!  " 

Sam  led  up  Marcia's  horse,  and  Louis  seated  her 
easily  in  her  saddle.  Then  he  vaulted  lightly  upon 
his  own  horse  and  they  rode  away. 

"  Ki-yi!  "  chuckled  Pete.  "  Nice  lookin'  par, 
hain't  dey,  Sam?  Looky  what  Marse  LeDru  gib 
me  for  hol'in  his  hoss!  "  showing  a  silver  dime  in 
his  small  black  hand.  "  Say,  Sam,  he  beat  'em  all, 
don't  he?  " 

"  No!  go  'way,  Pete,  yer  doesn't  know  nuffin'!  " 
said  loyal  Sam,  stoutly.  "  Marse  LeDru  berry 
well  —  I  don't  go  fur  to  say  he  hain't  —  but  don't 
yer  be  a  settin'  anybody  a-top  o'  yer  own  Marse 
Vance!  Souf  Car'lin'yans  is  nice  'nuff,  but  dey 
kain't  hoi'  a  candle  to  Kaintuck  folks!  " 

"  Dunno  'bout  dat!  "  grinned  Pete. 

"  Lord,  boy,  who  spec's  fur  ye  to  know!  You's 
young  yit,  Pete,  an'  got  heaps  to  larn!  Heel  it 
now,  an'  git  on  yer  Sunday  fixin's.  You  an'  me's 
g\vine  to  de  picnic,  to  wait  on  de  quality.  Tumble 
roun'  libely  now,  an'  git  ready  to  help  me  tote  out 
de  hampers  soon's  I  hitch  up  de  little  wagon." 

Pete,  always  delighted  to  go  with  the  white  folks, 
tossed  up  his  old  hat,  and  was  off  with  a  whoop, 
proudly  exhibiting  his  dime  to  every  darkey  he 
met. 

The  spot  selected  for  the  picnic  ground  was  at 
the  foot  of  a  hill,  just  above  the  falls. 

There  the  grass  and  moss  were  of  a  soft,  velvety 
green,  short  and  thick.  A  spring  of  pure  water 
gurgled  close  by,  and  majestic  trees  stood  like  huge 


"COOL   GROT   AND    MOSSY   DELL."  45 

sentinels  to  guard  the  thoughtless  revelers  gathered 
under  their  shade. 

When  Marcia  and  Louis  reached  the  ground  they 
found  Vance  and  Florry  already  there.  So  were 
Lionel  and  Maggie,  and  heedless  Dick,  escorting  a 
young  lady  from  Lexington,  whom  his  sisters  had 
persuaded  him  to  bring. 

Myra  came  soon  after  with  Doctor  Burnett,  a 
rising  young  Frankfort  physician,  who  worshiped 
the  ground  she  stepped  upon. 

Others  followed,  until  all  the  party  were  present. 
A  little  dressing-room  of  green  boughs  had  been 
built  for  the  convenience  of  the  ladies  who  rode  on 
horseback,  and  would  need  to  take  off  their  long 
riding-skirts. 

A  strong  rope  was  fastened  securely  between  two 
great  trees  into  a  massive  swing,  where  light  forms 
were  wafted  to  an  almost  perilous  height,  accom- 
panied by  dainty,  girlish  screams. 

The  sports  of  the  morning  were  gaily  begun,  and 
kept  up  until  nearly  dinner-time.  At  last  Louis  Le- 
Dru  reminded  Vance  of  his  promise  to  tell  the  story 
of  the  falls. 

"  Yes,  yes!  Let's  have  the  legend!  "  cried  several 
voices.  "  Come,  Douglas,  the  story!  "  And  Vance, 
who  sat  on  a  fallen  log  at  the  base  of  a  huge  tree 
with  Myra  and  Florence,  became  at  once  the  center 
of  attraction. 

'  "  Is  there  a  story  connected  with  the  falls?  I 
never  heard  it?"  said  Myra,  removing  her  large 
blue  eyes  from  the  face  of  Louis  LeDru,  and  gaz- 
ing dreamily  out  over  the  foamy  cloud  of  spray  and 
water  just  beyond  them. 

"  It  is  nothing  more  than  an  old  Indian  tradition," 
said  Vance.  "  And  I  shall  not  be  likely  to  prove  a 
very  fascinating  story-teller.  But  as  nearly  as  I 
can  recollect  it,  you  shall  have  it," 


46  THE   LEGEND    OF   THE   FALLS. 

The    listeners    gathered   around   in    groups,  and 
Vance  began  the  legend. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  FALLS. 

"  The  waters  went  warbling  above  and  around, 
The  forests  hung  heaped  in  their  shadows  profound. " 

Meredith, 

"  But  never  again  will  the  woodland  re-echo 
The  laugh  of  La-yu-na,  the  Indian  girl." 

Miss  Burke. 

"  MANY  years  ago,"  the  story  ran,  "when  Indians 
were  thicker  here  than  trees  are  now,  and  the  trees 
were  thicker  than  the  Indians,  there  lived  among 
them  a  beautiful  maiden,  the  daughter  of  a  great 
chief." 

"  Of  course!  "  put  in  irreverent  Maggie.  But 
without  heeding  her,  Vance  went  on: 

"  She  was  the  star  of  her  father's  lodge,  the  light 
of  her  people,  beloved  and  happy  as  the  day  is 
long.  At  last  there  came  a  white  man  to  the  tribe, 
who  professed  to  love  La-yu-na,  and  won  her  love 
in  return.  He  gave  her  costly  gifts,  decked  her 
with  jewels,  and  wandered  all  day  upon  the  banks 
of  the  river  with  her.  She  never  doubted  his  truth , 
and  believed  every  word  when  he  promised  to  for- 
sake his  own  pale-faced  nation  forever,  adopt  hers, 
and  make  her  his  bride.  " 

"  And  then  he  didn't  do  it  !  "  said  Maggie. 

"  Sorry  to  say  he  didn't.  He  left  her  to  return  to 
his  people,  promising  speedily  to  return  and  take 
La-yu-na  to  his  own  wigwam.  But  he  never  came 
back.  The  chieftain's  daughter  waited  long  and 
patiently,  sighing  and  pining,  hoping  in  vain  for 
the  return  of  her  false  lover.  But  no  token  of 
remembrance  ever  reached  her.  So  at  last  La-yu-na 


THE  LEGEND  OF  THE  FALLS.        4/ 

gave  it  up,  and  her  heart  broke.  She  dressed  her- 
self in  her  richest  robes,  decked  herself  with  all  the 
jewelry  he  had  given  her,  walked  out  to  the  edge  of 
the  cliff  yonder,  sung  her  death-song,  and  with  one 
long,  wild  cry,  leaped  over  the  cliff,  and  sunk  for- 
ever in  the  whirling  waters,  which,  to  this  day,  are 
said  to  be  haunted  by  the  spirit  of  the  lost  Indian 
girl." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  when  Vance  ceased 
speaking.  Then  some  one  said,  "  Look  at  Myra 
Leslie  !  " 

They  all  turned  toward  Myra,  who  sat  still,  pale 
as  death,  her  great  blue  eyes  gazing  fixedly,  mourn- 
fully out  over  the  leaping  water,  with  a  strange 
expression  on  her  face. 

0  Why,  Myra,  child,  did  I  frighten  you  ?  "  asked 
Vance,  kindly. 

Slowly  Myra'withdrew  her  gaze  from  the  waters, 
and  with  a  long-drawn,  shivering  breath,  she  said: 

"  No  —  but — I  seemed  to  see  that  poor  girl,  so 
plain  !  I  felt  for  a  moment  as  if  it  were  myself ! 
Ugh  !  "  with  a  cold  shudder,  "  don't  ever  let  me  go 
near  that  horrid  cliff !  But  how  she  must  have 
loved  him  !  Ugh  !  "  with  another  shudder,  "  it 
makes  my  flesh  creep  to  think  of  it  !  What  an 
unfortunate  girl  !  " 

"  Myra,  don't  be  fanciful  !  "  cried  Maggie.  "  Say, 
rather,  what  a  great  fool  she  was.  Like  to  see 
myself  jumping  off  there  for  any  man  !  " 

"  More  likely  you  would  drive  a  man  to  jump 
over  himself,"  said  Lionel  Edwards,  at  her  elbow. 

Maggie  flashed  her  black  eyes  full  upon  him, 
and  answered: 

"  I'd  be  mighty  sure  not  to  hinder  him,  if  he  was 
fool  enough  to  try  it!  " 

Mr.  Lionel  had  not  been  overly  pleased  with 
Miss  Maggie  of  late.  She  was  really  a  true,  honest- 
hearted  girl,  but  there  was  a  small  spice  of  coquetry 


48  THE   LEGEND    OF   THE    FALLS. 

in  her  whimsical  nature,  which  sometimes  led  her 
into  trouble. 

She  liked  nothing  better  than  to  be  surrounded 
by  a  bevy  of  beaux,  dispensing  her  smiles  and 
favors  to  all  of  them  alike. 

But  this  did  not  suit  Lionel  at  all.  Particularly 
did  he  think  she  allowed  Mr.  LeDru  to  absorb  too 
much  of  her  attention,  and  he  was  beginning  to 
consider  it  high  time  to  interfere. 

But  that  last  speech,  as  Maggie's  prompt  answer 
had  proved,  was  not  the  wisest  one  he  could  have 
made  just  then. 

To  make  matters  worse,  he  asked,  with  an  angry 
flash  of  his  gray  eyes,  "  Would  you  like  me  to  try 
it?" 

Maggie  returned  him  quite  as  angry  a  glance 
from  her  black  ones,  and  answered,  haughtily: 

"  Just  as  you  choose!  What  you  do  is  a  mat- 
ter of  utter  indifference  to  me!  " 

Lionel  flushed  a  deep  scarlet,  and  walked  away 
without  another  word. 

Maggie's  heart  beat  fast.  She  did  love  Lionel, 
and  feared  she  had  gone  a  little  too  far  this  time. 
But  she  was  too  proud  to  show  it.  And  not  seem- 
ing to  notice  which  way  Lionel  went,  she  turned  to 
address  Mr.  LeDru  again. 

Louis,  too,  had  disappeared.  He  had  been  sit- 
ting on  a  mossy  stone  with  Marcia,  but  his  eyes 
often  wandered  to  Myra's  fair  face,  which  had  re- 
covered its  color  and  bloom. 

But  Louis  several  times  saw  her  shiver  as  she 
glanced  out  over  the  waterfall  where  the  poor, 
heart-broken  Indian  girl  had  flung  herself  to  death. 

While  Maggie  and  Lionel  were  having  their  little 
quarrel,  Marcia  was  called  upon  to  decide  some 
little  point  concerning  the  dinner,  and  excused  her- 
self to  Mr.  LeDru. 

He  willingly  excused  her,  going  instantly  across 


MAGGIE   AND   LIONEL.  49 

to  Myra,  asking  if  she  would  stroll  above  the  falls 
with  him.  She  readily  assented,  and  leaving  Doc- 
tor Burnett  to  chat  with  Florence,  she  walked  away 
beside  Louis. 

Mr.  LeDru  had  given  his  chief  attention  to 
Marcia,  ever  since  he  came  among  them,  flirting  a 
little  with  Maggie,  by  way  of  pastime.  But  alas! 
poor  Myra.  Those  magnetic  black  eyes  of  his  had 
fascinated  her  from  the  very  first  time  she  saw  him, 
and  well  he  knew  his  power. 

Not  much  was  said  during  the  short  ramble  which 
preceeded  the  call  to  dinner.  But  many  passionate 
looks  and  dangerously  sweet  tones  haunted  Myra's 
dreams  all  night,  to  the  utter  exclusion  of  one 
memory  of  honest  young  Doctor  Burnett,  who,  in 
the  room  back  of  his  dingy  little  office  in  Frankfort, 
dreamed  of  sweet  Myra  Leslie  as  the  guiding  star 
of  his  future. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MAGGIE   AND   LIONEL. 

"So  if  you'll  but  chime  in, 
We'll  quit  all  this  rhymin', 
Swap  Cupid  for  Hymen, 
And  get  married  to-morrow." 

Old  Song. 

A  GLORIOUS  sunset  was  brightening  all  the  beau- 
tiful Kentucky  hills,  and  turning  the  spray  of  the 
water-fall  into  a  shower  of  gold,  when  the  picnic 
party  set  out  on  their  return  to  their  homes. 

As  Myra  was  about  to  mount  her  horse,  she 
paused  and  took  a  last  lingering  look  at  the  falls. 

"  Ugh!  It  makes  me  shiver  all  over!"  she  mur- 
mured. "  I  can't  help  thinking  of  that  poor  girl!" 

"  Think,  instead,  of  some  one  who  thinks  of  you, 


50  MAGGIE  AND   LIONEL. 

Miss  Myra!"  said  a  soft,  sybilant  whisper  just  at 
her  elbow.  She  started  and  turned  quickly. 

And  caught  one  thrilling  glance,  as  Louis  LeDru 
passed  with  Marcia. 

But  Marcia  was  speaking  to  the  lady  with  Dick 
Leslie,  and  neither  heard  the  words  nor  saw  the 
glance  which  accompanied  them. 

But  Myra  carried  the  memory  of  both  home  in 
the  gentle  heart  which  fluttered  like  an  imprisoned 
bird  in  her  tender  breast.  Poor,  pretty,  ill-fated 
Myra! 

Maggie  had  hardly  spoken  to  Lionel  since  the 
cut  she  gave  him,  when  he  left  her  so  abruptly, 
before  dinner. 

But  when  he  came  to  escort  her  home,  she  saw 
that  he  was  in  no  mood  to  be  trifled  with.  Never- 
theless she  found  it  very  hard  to  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  tease  him  a  little. 

So,  after  they  were  on  the  road,  bowling  along 
in  Lionel's  buggy,  she  began  the  conversation  her- 
self. 

"  Didn't  we  have  a  lovely  day,  Lionel?" 

"  You  did,  I  suppose,"  responded  Lionel,  some- 
what grimly. 

"  Oh,  indeed  I  did!  Didn't  you?"  with  an  air 
of  exasperating  innocence. 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure!  A  most  delightful  day,  of 
course!  "  This  time  very  sarcastically. 

"  Isn't  that  Miss  Clark,  from  Frankfort,  a  pretty 
girl?" 

"  I  didn't  look  at  her." 

Maggie  began  to  pout. 

"  Lionel,  you  are  cross  as  a  bear!  " 

"  Well,  what  if  I  am?" 

"  Oh,  nothing!  I  was  only  wondering  what 
could  be  the  cause,  that's  all!"  with  provoking 
coolness. 

"  You  can't  think  of  any  cause,  I  suppose?  " 


MAGGIE   AND    LIONEL.  51 

"  No,  certainly  not!  " 

"  There's  cause  enough,  /think!  " 

"  Oh,  if  you're  determined  to  quarrel,  let's  have 
it  out,  and  be  done  with  it!  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  want  to  quarrel,  Maggie.  But 

,  well,  I'd  like  to  know  what  you  girls  see 

in  that  black-a-vised  LeDru  to  bewitch  every 
mother's  daughter  of  you!" 

Maggie  burst  into  a  merry  laugh. 

"  Why,  he  is  bewitching.     Don't  you  think  so?  " 

"  You  seem  to,  at  all  events." 

"  Of  course  I  do.  Why,  only  think  of  it!  He 
has  glorious  black  eyes,  curly  black  hair,  splendid 
mustache!  He  has  the  most  charming  manners! 
Sings  like  a  bird,  dances  like  an  angel  —  all  the 
essentials  of  a  'perfect  love  of  a  man! '  ' 

"Bah!!!" It  would  be  impossible  to 

express  on  paper  Mr.  Lionel's  strong  tone  of  intense 
disgust. 

Mischievous  Mag  laughed  until  she  was  in  danger 
of  falling  from  the  buggy. 

"  Oh,  laugh  away,  if  it  amuses  you  so  much  !" 
said  Lionel,  shortly.  "  It  doesn't  amuse  me,  I  as- 
sure you. " 

"  Why  do  you  hate  poor  LeDru  so  ?  What  do 
you  know  against  him  ?"  asked  Maggie,  sobering 
down  somewhat. 

"  I  don't  hate  him,  nor  do  I  know  anything  se- 
rious against  him.  I'm  willing  to  admit  that  he  is  a 
gentleman  in  dress  and  address,  and  Marcia  Doug- 
las may  like  him  as  much  as  she  chooses,  which  she 
probably  will  in  spite  of  me.  But,  Mag,  when  a 
stranger,  whom  six  weeks  ago  you  never  had  heard 
of,  can  cause  you  to  turn  your  back  on  the  devoted 
friend  of  years,  and  say  you  don't  care  whether  he 
lives  or  dies,  it  is  —  it  is — oh,  well  !  it's  no  use 
talking  ;  words  won't  express  what  I  feel  !" 


52  MAGGIE  AND   LIONEL. 

Maggie  grew  serious.  She  turned  upon  Lionel 
with  a  sparkle  of  temper  in  her  dark  eyes. 

"  When  did  I  ever  say  such  a  thing,  Mr.  Lionel 
Edwards  ?" 

"  This  morning. " 

"  I  didn't  !" 

"  I  can  convince  you  !" 

"  Do  it,  then  !"  snapped  Maggie. 

As  she  grew  warm,  Lionel  cooled.  He  answered 
quietly,  "  Very  well  ;  do  you  recall  saying  you 
would  like  to  see  yourself  jump  the  falls  ?" 

"  Yes  !" 

"  Do  you  remember  that  I  said  you  would  rather 
drive  a  man  to  jump  ?" 

"  Yes  !" 

"  And  you  said  you  wouldn't  try  to  prevent 
him  ?" 

"  Yes  !"  more  faintly. 

"  Then  I  asked  you  if  I  should  try  it  ?" 

"  Yes  !"  quite  faintly  this  time. 

"  And  you  said  you  didn't  care.  Oh,  Maggie  ! 
did  you  really  mean  that  ?" 

Maggie  saw  that  she  was  about  to  be  ignomin- 
iously  vanquished.  She  turned  round,  girl  fashion, 
and  tacked  the  contrary  way  as  quickly  as  possible. 
She  covered  her  face  with  her  handkerchief  and 
began  to  cry  like  a  scolded  child. 

Lionel  lost  no  time  in  pursuing  the  advantage  he 
had  won.  He  quietly  slipped  one  arm  around 
Maggie's  waist  and  said,  tenderly: 

"  Don't  cry,  Maggie,  darling!  I  wouldn't  hurt 
your  feelings  for  all  the  world.  You  don't  think  I 
would,  do  you?" 

"N-no!"  sobbed  Maggie,  behind  her  handker- 
chief. 

"  You  know  I  wouldn't,  dear!  But  this  playing 
fast  and  loose,  and  tossing  me  about  like  a  baby 
does  a  ball,  won't  do  any  longei  It  won't,  indeed, 


MARCIA'S  AWAKENING.  53 

Maggie,  dear.  Either  you  do  love  me  or  you  don't, 
and  one  way  or  the  other  it  is  time  to  end  the  thing. 
If  you  don't,  why,  we  part  to-night,  for  good  and  for 
ever.  Do  you  wish  it  that  way,  Maggie?" 

"  N-no,"  sobbed  Maggie,  still  in  hiding. 

"  Then,  if  you  don't  wish  it  you  must  love  me, 
and  we  need  never  part  at  all.  It's  no  use  to  say 
•  I  love  you.'  If  my  actions  haven't  already  proved 
that  to  you  and  everybody  else,  my  words  can't. 
But,  Maggie,  I  want  to  let  all  my  future  life  show 
that  there  is  no  one  in  all  the  world  I  love  as  I  do 
my  own  little  girl  —  my  Maggie.  Come,  darling, 
put  down  that  bit  of  rag,  look  me  in  the  face  and 
say  you  belong  to  me  and  to  nobody  else.  Won't 
you,  Maggie?" 

Then,  as  she  half- resisted,  Lionel  drew  away  the 
"  bit  of  rag,"  as  he  called  her  costly  handkerchief 
of  lace  and  cambric,  and  revealed  the  pretty  face, 
which,  instead  of  being  drowned  in  tears,  was  all 
sparkling  and  glorious  with  fun  and  laughter. 

But  Maggie  was  fairly  conquered  and,  hiding  her 
face  again,  this  time  on  Lionel's  broad  shoulder, 
she  most  humbly  gave  all  the  promises  he  wanted. 

Before  they  reached  home  he  had  her  fast  bound, 
and  wild  as  she  was,  he  knew  he  could  trust  her 
implicitly. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
MARCIA'S  AWAKENING. 

"  And  so  the  truth  I  would  be  told, 
That  I  may  keep  my  dream  of  gold 
Pure  and  unspotted  in  my  heart. " 

— F.  S.  Mines. 

THAT  picnic  was  a  marked  day  on  other  records 
than  those  of  Maggie  and  Lionel. 

On  that  afternoon  Marcia's  heart  was  changed 


54  MARCIA  S   AWAKENING. 

from  that  of  a  careless,  happy  girl,  to  that  of  an 
earnest,  thoughtful,  loving  woman. 

She  had  noticed,  lately,  that  Vance  spent  a  good 
deal  of  time  with  Florence.  But  she  could  not 
understand  why  that  fact  should  cause  her  such  a 
va^ue  feeling  of  uneasiness.  It  chanced  to  her  to 
overhear  a  bit  of  conversation  between  two  Frank- 
lort  girls,  just  before  the  picnic  party  broke  up, 
\\hich  gave  her  anew  revelation. 

"  Vance  Douglas  and  Florry  Edwards  make  a 
nice-looking  couple,  don't  they?  "  remarked  one  of 
the  girls. 

"  Yes,  they  do,"  was  the  answer.  "  He  is  grow- 
ing quite  devoted,  isn't  he?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  very  natural.  Everybody  thinks  it 
will  be  a  match,  and  that  very  soon." 

"  Indeed?     I  didn't  know  that." 

"  Oh,  didn't  you?  Well,  it  is  the  opinion  of 
everybody.  I've  no  doubt  it  is  entirely  settled, 
though  not  yet  made  public." 

"  Well,  it  will  be  a  splendid  match,  anyway." 

Marcia  walked  hastily  away,  afraid  to  trust  her- 
self to  hear  another  word,  but  her  heart  was  in  a 
hot  tumult.  What  did  it  mean?  Vance  and  Flor- 
ence! Did  he  love  her?  Did  she  love  him?  And 
if  that  were  so,  then  what?  Why  did  the  very 
thought  hurt  her  so  sharply?  Did  she  love  Vance 
herself  better  than  a  cousin? 

Over  and  over  she  asked  herself  these  ques- 
tions, utterly  unable  at  first  to  answer  them.  But 
even  in  this  first  lesson  in  life,  she  maintained  her 
self-control  so  well  that  not  one  of  her  gay  com- 
panions dreamed  of  the  conflict  going  on  within 
her  gentle  breast. 

But,  lying  alone  on  her  snow-white  couch  that 
night,  with  wide-open  eyes,  she  fought  the  battle 
with  herself,  and  conquered. 


MARCIA'S   AWAKENING.  55 

She  arose  next  morning,  a  child  no  longer,  but  a 
loving  woman,  brave  to  guard  her  pure  secret. 

She  did  love  Vance.  But  if  he  loved  Florence 
best,  it  was  all  right,  all  for  the  best.  Florence  was 
a  noble  girl,  and  she  could  welcome  her  as  a  sister, 
for  she  would  be  more  a  sister  than  a  cousin.  Vance 
should  still  be  her  dear  brother,  and  for  herself,  she 
would  never,  never  leave  her  dear,  old  father. 

Mr.  Louis,  who  flattered  himself  that  he  was 
making  an  easy  conquest  of  Marcia's  heart,  would 
not  have  felt  quite  so  much  elated  had  he  known 
that  not  one  single  thought  of  him  had  stirred  her 
bosom  all  that  long  night. 

When  she  came  down  to  breakfast  the  next 
morning,  her  sweet  face  was  as  bright  and  serene  as 
if  no  maiden  secret  lay  hidden  in  her  tender  heart. 
There  was  no  change  in  her,  save  a  slight  one  in 
her  manner  to  her  father,  which  was  even  more 
affectionate  than  usual. 

A  light  rain  had  fallen  during  the  night,  and  the 
clouds  still  looked  threatening. 

"  I'm  afraid  there  will  be  no  going  out  to-day," 
said  Marcia,  as  she  stood  by  the  window  and  gazed 
at  the  lowering  sky. 

"  Does  it  disappoint  you?  "  asked  LeDru,  at  her 
side. 

"  Yes,  somewhat.  I  have  a  cashmere  sacque  to 
braid,  and  Maggie  Leslie  told  me  yesterday  that 
she  had  a  lovely  pattern  for  me,  one  which  came 
from  Louisville.  I  wanted  to  go  over  and  get  it, 
so  as  to  finish  my  sacque  this  week. " 

"  Make  me  your  deputy!  "  said  Louis,  gallantly. 
"  I  am  going  to  take  a  constitutional  gallop,  spite 
of  the  rain.  I'll  go  Leslie-ward  with  pleasure,  to 
oblige  you. " 

"  Will  you?"  said  Marcia.  "  Indeed  I  would  be 
very  much  obliged,  for  I  do  want  to  braid  my 
sacque. " 


56  MARCIA'S  AWAKENING. 

"  It  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  you  are  disappointed ! " 
returned  Mr.  Louis,  in  his  sweetest  tones. 

So,  at  Marcia's  bidding,  he  rode  gaily  away  to 
Leslie's.  The  clouds  made  good  their  threat,  and 
rained  again. 

This,  of  course,  prolonged  Mr.  LeDru's  morning 
call  into  quite  a  visit.  It  was  almost  dinner-time 
when  he  returned  and  delivered  into  Marcia's  hand 
the  little  package  which  Maggie  sent  over. 

"  Many  thanks!  "  said  Marcia,  smiling  upon  him. 
"  I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant  call  to  pay  for  your 
trouble." 

"  As  pleasant  as  could  be  away  from  —  Douglas 
Hall!  "  answered  Mr.  Louis,  adroitly. 

"  Did  the  girls  appear  tired  after  yesterday's  exer- 
tions?" asked  Marcia. 

"  I  thought  not.  They  seemed  blooming  as 
usual,"  was  LeDru's  reply. 

He  omitted  to  tell  her  that  Maggie  had  only 
remained  in  the  parlor  a  few  moments,  and  then 
left  Myra  to  entertain  him  during  his  long  call. 

But  Maggie  did  not  apprehend  the  slightest  dan- 
ger to  her  young  sister  from  being  left  under  Mr. 
LeDru's  influence,  and  his  allurements  had  ceased 
to  be  effective  with  her.  Having  really  given  her 
troth  to  Lionel,  she  was  loyal  to  him  in  word  and 
act;  and  because  she  knew  he  would  rather  she  did 
not  remain  in  Louis'  society,  she  had  quietly  ex- 
cused herself  and  left  the  room. 

The  engagement  between  Lionel  and  Maggie  was 
not  kept  secret.  Perhaps  Lionel  fancied  he  would 
be  more  secure  in  his  treasure  if  every  one  knew 
she  belonged  to  him. 

In  a  few  days  it  was  understood  all  over  the 
neighborhood  that  their  wedding  would  take  place 
early  in  the  autumn. 

The  betrothal  was  to  be  celebrated  in  good,  old- 
fashioned  style  by  a  large  party,  to  which  all  the 


THE   BALL.  57 

gentry  for  miles  around  were  bidden,  and  nearly  all 
the  invitations  accepted. 


CHAPTER  X. 
"CHASING  THE  HOURS  WITH  FLYING  FEET." 

"  The  chaperons  and  dancers  were  all  in  a  flutter; 
A  crowd  blocked  the  door,  and  a  buzz  and  a  mutter, 
I  should  say,  a  murmur,  ran  all  through  the  room. " 

Meredith. 

THESE  good,  old-fashioned  Kentucky  folks  did 
not  wait  until  the  hour  when  ordinary  people  go  to 
bed  to  begin  their  revels. 

The  hour  was  yet  early  when  Marcia  ran  down 
to  the  parlor  where  LeDru  and  Vance  were  waiting. 
Squire  Douglas  and  Miss  Madeline  had  also  received 
cards,  but  the  Squire  had  declined. 

Miss  Madeline  was  going,  and  in  her  rich  black 
satin  and  rare  old  lace,  looked  fair  and  lovely,  in 
spite  of  her  fifty  years. 

Marcia  was  in  a  cloud  of  white  tulle  and  frosty 
lace,  looped  with  delicate  green  vines,  her  slender 
waist  knotted  with  a  sash  of  pale  green  satin. 
Milky  pearls  banded  her  white  throat  and  round 
wrists.  She  had  never  looked  more  lovely  in  the 
eyes  which  were  raised  to  greet  her  coming 

Vance  drew  a  deep,  inward  sigh  as  he  glanced  at 
her. 

LeDru  pretended  to  hide  his  eyes  with  his  hands. 

"  Miss  Marcia,  I  won't  dare  go  with  you  !  "  he 
cried,  laughingly.  "  You  will  be  certain  to  fade 
into  a  beautiful  mist-wreath  and  vanish  away,  and 
your  good  papa  will  accuse  us  of  kidnaping  you." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  danger,"  answered  Marcia,  gaily. 
"  Aunt  Maddy  will  be  along,  and  papa  knows  she 
won't  stand  any  such  nonsense  !  "  , 

"  Well,  I  shall  cover  up  so  dazzling  a  vision  before 


58  THE  BALL. 

it  injures  our  eyes,"  said  LeDru,  as  he  took  Marcia's 
cloak  from  the  hands  of  Rosa,  who  brought  it  in, 
and  carefully  wrapped  it  round  her  shoulders. 

At  that  moment  Sam  announced  the  carriage 
ready.  Sam  was  delighted  to  act  as  coachman,  for 
there  was  a  certain  dusky  damsel  called  Lina  among 
the  Leslie  servants  who  was  the  queen  of  Sam's 
affections. 

The  little  party  of  four  were  soon  in  the  carriage, 
and  shortly  arrived  at  the  Leslie  mansion,  where  a 
number  of  guests  had  already  assembled. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leslie  stood  with  Maggie  and 
Lionel  to  receive  their  friends. 

Mr.  Leslie  was  a  tall,  portly  gentleman,  who  had 
served  his  state  in  the  legislature  for  two  years,  and 
was  quite  prominent  in  all  county  work. 

Mrs.  Leslie  was  a  fair,  delicate  little  woman,  who 
seemed  better  fitted  to  be  the  play-fellow  than  the 
mother  of  those  bouncing  girls  and  that  stalwart 
Dick,  who  could  so  easily  have  tossed  her  over  his 
shoulder. 

Florry  was  there,  dressed  in  pure  white,  without 
jewels  save  a  small  diamond  cross  attached  to  a 
narrow  black  velvet  ribbon,  and  worn  around  her 
neck.  It  had  belonged  to  her  mother,  and  was 
therefore  of  great  value  to  her.  Florence  was  very 
happy  in  Lionel's  new  happiness,  and  it  was  this 
which  made  her  smile  so  sweet  when  the  little  party 
from  Douglas  Hall  drew  near. 

But  Marcia  read  it  differently,  and  for  one  instant 
her  heart  rebelled.  The  next  she  gave  Florence  a 
warm  greeting,  and  took  a  seat  close  beside  her, 
Vance  and  LeDru  standing  by  their  chairs. 

All  the  beauty  and  chivalry  of  Lexington  and 
Frankfort,  as  well  as  the  country  seats  around,  were 
there  that  night. 

Doctor  Burnett  was  among  them,  hovering  near 
pretty  Myra  with  a  deep  light  in  his  dark  eyes. 


THE   BALL.  59 

Dick  kept  close  to  the  Hall  group,  but  wore  so 
doleful  a  face  that  Marcia  privately  asked  Maggie 
what  was  the  matter. 

"  Dear  knows!  "  answered  Maggie.  "  He  has 
been  as  cross  as  a  bear  all  day,  but  nobody  can  tell 
why." 

Dick  could  have  told  had  he  been  so  disposed. 
He  shrewdly  guessed  that  Louis  LeDru  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sudden  understanding  to  which  Mag- 
gie and  Lionel,  after  so  many  years  of  courtship, 
had  come,  and  he  felt  sure  that  Mr.  Louis  was 
standing  in  his  way,  also. 

"  I'm  not  quite  a  fool!  "  grumbled  poor  Dick.  "  I 
can  see  through  a  mill-stone  as  well  as  anybody,  if 
there's  a  hole  in  it!  'Twas  nothing  but  a  flirtation 
with  Maggie —  he  didn't  care  a  snap  for  her  —  but 
he  is  in  dead  earnest  after  Marcia,  or  her  fortune, 
one,  hanged  if  I  know  which!  If  I  don't  do  some- 
thing pretty  soon,  it's  all  up  with  me,  and  it  may 
be,  anyhow!" 

He  resolved  to  test  his  fate,  that  very  night,  win 
or  lose  for  good.  Not  a  very  strong  hope  of  win- 
ning had  he,  but  it  was  worth  trying,  at  least. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  before  he  found  any 
opportunity.  Then  he  chanced  to  be  near  Maggie 
and  Marcia,  when  Marcia  said: 

"  Dick,  are  you  sick?  You  look  as  if  you  were 
attending  your  own  funeral." 

"  Perhaps  I  am!  "  growled  Dick,  not  answering 
her  question.  "  Come  and  read  the  service  over 
me,  will  you? 

"  Don't  go,  Marcia!  "  said  Maggie,  laughing. 
"  It  isn't  the  funeral  service  he  wants  to  hear,  its 
the  marriage  ceremony!  " 

"  Shan't  be  likely  to  need  it  before  you  do!  " 
growled  Dick,  again. 

Marcia  had  no  idea  of  what  Dick  really  meant  to 
do,  and  a  Clement's  escape  from  the  warm,  per- 


6O  THE  BALL. 

fumed  parlor  would  be  very  pleasant,  so  she  will- 
ingly took  Dick's  arm,  and  allowed  him  to  lead  her 
out  upon  the  cool,  moon-lit  piazza,  to  a  chair 
beyond  the  range  of  the  parlor  windows. 

"  Marcia,  I  must  have  a  little  talk  with  you,"  said 
he,  abruptly,  as  he  leaned  with  folded  arms  against 
one  of  the  huge  pillars  supporting  the  double 
piazza. 

"  Talk  away,  Dick,"  replied  Marcia,  merrily. 
"  Though  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of 
you,  to-night.  Is  anything  serious  the  matter?" 

"  Oh,  no!  "  said  Dick,  ironically.  "  The  fate  of 
a  poor  devil  like  me  doesn't  amount  to  anything, 
certainly  not!  I've  only  a  word  to  say,  and  it  shall 
be  said.  Some  folks  might  raise  a  point  as  to  its 
being  in  my  own  house,  but  I'm  not  one  of  your 
fastidious  fellows,  and  I  shan't  stand  on  ceremony. 
Marcia,  how  much  longer  is  this  thing  to  go  on?" 

"  Is  what  thing  to  go  on,  Dick?" 

"  How  much  longer  is  that  puppy,  LeDru,  to 
hang  around  you  as  he  is  doing?" 

"•Permit  me  to  remind  you  that  Mr.  LeDru  is 
my  father's  guest,  sir,"  said  Marcia,  drawing  her- 
self up  haughtily. 

"  Oh,  Jiang  it  all!  I  beg  your  pardon,  Marcia. 
I  know  I  spoke  like  a  brute,  and  did  not  deserve 
any  answer  at  all,  but — oh,  well!  what's  the  use 
of  beating  the  devil  round  the  bush?  I  beg  pardon 
again,  Marcia,  I  will  try  not  to  be  so  rough.  I 
know  I'm  no  more  fit  for  the  society  of  ladies  than 
a  Jimson  burr  is  for  a  powder  puff,  except  that  at 
heart  I'd  die  before  I'd  injure  a  girl  or  see  any  one 
else  do  it.  But  jytw  can  make  just  what  you  please 
of  me,  for  I  love  you,  Marcia  Douglas!  There's 
the  long  and  the  short  of  it,  and  I  can't  keep  it  in 
any  longer.  I  dare  say  the  young  gentleman  from 
South  Carolina  is  ahead  of  me,  but  he  don't  nor 
can't  love  you  half  as  well  as  I  do!" 


THE  BALL.  6l 

"  Oh,  Dick,  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  this!"  said 
Marcia,  gently  and  gravely,  as  he  paused  abruptly. 

"  Sorry,  are  you?  Is  that  all  ?"  questioned  poor 
Dick.  "  Can't  you  say  something  more,  Marcia?" 

"  What  more  could  I  say,  Dick,  unless  I  could 
return  the  —  the  feeling  you  honor  me  with?  " 

Dick  laughed,  a  short,  dry  laugh. 

"  Precious  honor,  that!"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  Dick,  any  woman  is  honored  when  an  hon- 
est love  is  offered  to  her.  I  know  yours  is  such  — 
I  am  sure  you  mean  truly  what  you  say,  and  it 
makes  me  the  more  sorry,  for  indeed  I  do  like  you 
very,  very  much,  Dick,  only " 

"  Only  not  in  the  '  only '  way  I  want  to  be 
'liked'!"  interrupted  Dick,  gloomily. 

"  No.  It  is  kindest  to  be  plain  with  you,  just 
now,  Dick.  I  wish  I  could  return  your  love — I 
do,  indeed.  But  I  cannot!" 

"  Never,  Marcia?  Never?  I  would  wait  any 
time,  do  anything,  for  just  the  smallest  hope," 
pleaded  Dick,  humbly,  searching  for  one  gleam  of 
comfort. 

Marcia  could  not  keep  back  the  tears  of  pity,  his 
manner  was  so  touching  and  earnest,  so  different 
from  headlong  Dick's  usual  heedless  fashion.  She 
put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  sobbed, 
"  I  could  not  give  it,  Dick. " 

"Well!  Don't  cry,  please  don't,"  said  Dick. 
"  I'm  not  worth  crying  over.  It's  only  the  answer 
I  expected,  anyhow. " 

"  But,  Dick,  I'm  so  sorry  for  you!" 

"Don't  be,  then!  I  don't  want  pity,  I  want 
love,"  said  Dick,  impetuously. 

"  You  will  find  plenty  of  pirls  ready  to  give  that, 
Dick." 

"  But  you  see  I  don't  happen  to  love  the  '  plenty 
of  girls!'"  said  Dick,  drily.  "I  only  love  one. 
Well!  it's  all  right!  I  don't  blame  you,  Marcia, 


62  THE   BALL. 

not  in  the  least.  You've  shown  me  a  hundred 
times  that  I  was  not  your  choice,  only  I  wouldn't 
see  it.  May  I  ask  one  question,  Marcia?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  Are  you  engaged  to  LeDru  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  Dick,  no  indeed  !  I  never  want  to  be 
engaged  to  him  or  anybody  ;  I  shall  never  marry, 
but  stay  with  papa  and  always  take  care  of  him." 

Dick  laughed  again,  a  short,  mirthless  laugh,  not 
pleasant  to  hear. 

"  An  old  maid,  eh  ?  Think  I  see  you  at  it. 
There  would  be  several  objections  to  that,  I  fancy." 

"  Hadn't  we  better  go  back  to  the  parlors?  They 
will  wonder  why  we  stay  so  long,"  said  Marcia, 
gently,  anxious  to  end  the  painful  interview. 

"  Just  as  you  please.  It's  all  one  to  me  now 
where  I  go  or  stay,"  said  Dick,  grimly,  offering  her 
his  arm. 

"  Dick,  it  grieves  me  to  hear  you  talk  so,"  said 
Marcia,  kindly. 

"  Oh,  well,  I'm  sorry  !  I'm  a  grievous  sort  of  fel- 
low, generally,  I  reckon.  But,  Marcia,  I  don't 
want  to  lose  your  friendship,  since  I  can't  have 
more. " 

"  You  shall  not  lose  it,  Dick.  I  am  deeply  sorry 
that  I  had  to  give  you  so  much  pain.  Try  to  for- 
get it  as  soon  as  you  can,  won't  you?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly;  anything  to  be  obliging.  I  dare 
say  I'll  forget  it  in  a  hundred  years." 

"  Less  than  that,  Dick  !  I  hope  very  soon  to  see 
you  happy  with  some  nice  girl  who  bears  the  name 
of  Mrs.  Leslie." 

Dick  gave  another  short,  dry  laugh  and 
answered  : 

"  It  will  be  long  enough,  now,  before  anybody 
sees  me  round  with  a  lady  I  shall  call  Mrs.  Leslie. " 

They  had  reached  the  parlor  by  this  time,  where 
a  set  was  just  forming  for  a  quadrille.  Marcia  took 


THE    BALL.  63 

a  place  in  it,  but  Dick  soon  disappeared  from  the 
room  a  second  time. 

And  while  music  and  dance  went  on  so  merrily 
below,  poor  Dick  might  have  been  found  in  his  own 
chamber,  seated  at  his  table,  his  arms  folded  upon 
it,  his  proud  head  bowed  upon  them,  weeping  like 
a  child  for  the  love  which  could  not  be  his. 

Strong,  manly  and  brave,  thinking  it  amusement 
to  break  the  most  vicious  horse,  willing,  if  duty 
called,  to  march  up  to  the  cannon's  mouth,  Dick 
had  melted  entirely  at  a  few  words  from  the  rosy 
mouth  of  a  little  woman.  And  I  like  him  none  the 
less  for  it! 

Some  one  besides  Dick  disappeared  from  the 
parlor  that  evening.  There  was  a  call  for  music, 
and  Myra  was  wanted  with  her  guitar;  but  Myra 
could  not  be  found. 

"  I  think  I  saw  her  in  the  hall  a  moment  since. 
I  will  find  her  directly,"  said  Mr.  LeDru.  Ever 
ready  to  oblige,  he  made  his  way  through  the  hall, 
out  to  the  front  verandah. 

A  group  of  the  negroes,  in  holiday  dress,  were 
gathered  there,  watching  through  the  open  Vin- 
dows  the  revels  of  their  beloved  "  white  folks. " 

Lina,  the  pretty  mulatto  maid  of  the  Leslie  girls, 
approached  Louis,  and  asked,  "  Is  you  lookin'  fur 
somebody,  Marse  LeDru?" 

"  Yes;  I  am  in  search  of  Miss  Myra,"  answered 
Louis,  with  a  careless  glance  at  the  girl. 

She  made  him  a  swift  sign,  and  said,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  In  de  garden,  sir." 

"  Ah!  Thank  you,  Lina!  "  said  Mr.  Louis,  as 
carelessly  as  before;  and  quietly  running  down  the 
verandah  steps,  he  went  toward  the  garden  in  haste, 
to  bring  Miss  Myra  to  sing. 

Sam  was  among  the  negroes,  waiting  for  a  chance 
to  get  near  Lina. 

As  soon  as  he  was  so  favored,  he  made  her  a  low 


64  THE   BALL. 

bow  (Sam  was  copying  the  elegant  Mr.  Louis  of 
late),  and  said,  loftily: 

"  Miss  Leslie,  would  it  be  acceptable  to  you  to 
take  a  short  promenade  in  the  moonlight  dis  eben- 
in'  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  doesn't  care  ef  I  does,"  answered  Lina, 
tossing  her  pretty  head  coquettishly,  until  the  coral 
ear-drops  Myra  had  given  her  twinkled  again.  "  But 
I  has  to  be  back  in  de  house  by  supper-time." 

"  I  shall  hab  de  pleasure  ob  restorin'  you  to  de 
house  by  dat  time,"  said  the  gallant  Sam. 

Lina  took  his  arm,  offered  with  an  a-la-Louis 
flourish,  and  they  strolled  into  the  garden,  as  self- 
satisfied  as  any  of  their  white  compeers. 

Beneath  a  drooping  catalpa  tree  they  paused  for 
a  little. 

"  Shall  you  be  to  home  a-Sunday  night,  Miss 
Leslie?  "  asked  Sam.  (These  negroes  were  fond  of 
calling  each  other  by  the  family  names  of  their 
masters  and  mistresses.) 

"  I  reckon  I  shall,  Mr.  Douglas. " 

"  Den  I  will  take  dat  opportunity  ob  payin'  you 
a  call." 

"  Laws,  Sam,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  deceibe 
you,"  giggled  Lina,  who  frequently  forgot  to  be 
ceremonious. 

Suddenly  the  low  murmur  of  voices  reached  their 
ears.  It  came  from  a  honeysuckle  arbor  near  by, 
and  a  glance  showed  them  Myra  and  Louis  sitting 
close  together  upon  the  rustic  bench  within. 

"  Let  us  go  furder  down  an'  not  'sturb  'em,"  said 
Lina,  quickly,  moving  away  from  the  catalpa  tree. 
Sam  followed  her  before  they  had  been  perceived 
by  the  couple  in  the  arbor. 

"  I  wonder  which  Marse  LeDru  gwine  to  marry, 
your  Miss  Marshy  or  my  Miss  Myra?  "  observed 
Lina,  making  the  coral  ear-drops  twinkle  again. 


THE   BALL.  65 

"  I  doesn't  know  ob  his  payin'  'tentions  to  Miss 
Myra,"  sai'd  Sam. 

"  But  I  does,"  giggled  Lina. 

"What  kind  o'  'tentions,  Lina?"  asked  Sam, 
forgetting  his  fine  manners. 

"  Oh,  he  walks  in  de  woods  wid  her  mos'  ebery 
day,  an'  sen's  her  notes  an'  'tings.  He  done  slip  a 
note  in  my  han'  dis  bery  ebenin,  an'  I  tuk  it  up- 
sta'rs  to  her,  an'  her  eyes  all  laugh  when  she  read  it. " 

"  Now  I  doesn't  half  like  dat,"  said  Sam. 
dubiously. 

"  Why,  what  you  'tink,  Sam?  Marse  LeDru 
not  mean  no  harm!  " 

"  I  don't  go  fur  to  say  he  does,  chile!  Marse 
LeDru  bery  fine  gemman  —  bery  fine,  'deed!  But 
I  doesn't  beliebe  in  payin'  court  to  mo'  dan  one 
young  lady  to  onct!  You  knows  I  doesn't,  Lina!  " 

"  No  more  does  I,  Sam.  But  you  an'  me  hadn't 
bettah  be  talkin'  'bout  dem  what's  'bove  us.  We'se 
jes'  keep  dis  hyar  to  ourselbes." 

"  Trus'  me  fo'  dat,  Miss  Leslie!  I  does  whateber 
you  say!  "  returned  Sam,  laying  his  hand  on  his 
heart,  resuming  all  his  airs  and  graces  for  Lina's 
benefit. 

A  full  hour  after  he  left  it  Mr.  Louis  reappeared 
in  the  parlor  with  Myra  on  his  arm. 

"  I  failed  to  find  the  truant  until  a  moment  since/' 
he  said,  looking  around  with  his  usual  courtly 
grace. 

While  Myra  in  answer  to  Maggie's  quick  question, 
"  Why,  where  have  you  been,  child?  "  answered, 
laughingly: 

"  Oh,  I  was  so  unfortunate  as  to  rip  the  lace 
flounce  off  my  dress,  so  I  had  to  run  up-stairs  and 
fix  it.  The  task  proved  longer  than  I  expected, 
and  so  I  found  Mr.  LeDru  searching  for  me  when 
I  came  down." 


66  A   SUCCESSFUL   WOOER. 

Of  course  her  explanation  was  accepted.  But 
Sam  and  Lina  could  have  given  a  different  one! 

Mr.  Louis  brought  Myra's  guitar,  gallantly 
throwing  the  blue  ribbon  around  her  soft  neck. 

Then  he  retired,  and  devoted  himself  to  Marcia 
for  the  rest  of  the  evenin0" 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  SUCCESSFUL   WOOER. 

"  I  presume  when  you  made 

Up  your  mind  to  propose  to  Miss  Darcy,  you  weighed 
All  the  drawbacks  against  the  equivalent  gains 
Ere  you  finally  settled  the  point. " 

Meredith. 

BEFORE  the  summer  was  over,  Mr.  LeDru  had 
made  up  his  mind  that  having  stepped  into  a  very 
good  thing  it  would  be  advisable  to  keep  it. 

He  did  not  apprehend  any  difficulty  in  doing  so. 
He  was  a  prime  favorite  with  the  old  squire,  Miss 
Madeline  and  Marcia.  And  if  he  was  not  a  favorite 
with  Vance,  the  young  Kentuckian  was  too  cour- 
teous to  allow  any  shade  of  coldness  or  dislike  to 
be  manifest  in  his  treatment  of  his  uncle's  guest. 

In  reality  LeDru  was  nearly  as  much  in  love 
with  Marcia  as  he  had  ever  been  with  any  one,  and 
he  appreciated  to  the  utmost  extent  the  advantages 
of  wealth  and  position  he  would  secure  by  a  union 
with  her. 

He  paid  her  the  greatest  devotion,  but  though 
she  readily  accepted  his  attention  she  hardly 
responded  with  sufficient  warmth  to  make  him  sure 
of  success. 

He  determined,  therefore,  to  secure  the  squire's 
influence  before  he  spoke  to  her,  knowing  that  it 
would  weigh  heavily  with  the  loving  daughter. 


A   SUCCESSFUL   WOOER.  67 

Every  one  about  the  place  could  readily  under- 
stand Mr.  LeDru's  intentions,  and  the  negroes 
freely  discussed  the  subject  in  the  kitchen  without 
a  dissenting  voice  except  from  old  Aunt  Nerve. 

"  'Sho!  Git  'long,  chillun,  ye  can't  fool  ole 
Nerve,"  she  remarked  to  a  circle  of  dusky  listeners. 
"  Ain't  no  good  a-gwine  to  come  o' all  dat  singin' 
an'  playin'  the  pianny,  an'  white  teef  a-sliinin',  an' 
black  eyes  a-rollin',  an'  bowin'  and  galivanting' 
roun'!  Faugh!  makes  me  plum  sick!  Reckon  I 
ain't  too  ole  yit,  to  know  a  pizen  snake-in-de-grass 
when  I  come  acrost  one.  Git  out  o'  de  way  dar, 
you  Pete,  else  I  dun  drap  dis  hyar  scaldin'  -hot 
coffee-pot  right' on  top  o'  yer  fool  head!  " 

"  No,  yer  wont,  Aunt  Nerve!  "  chuckled  Pete, 
'  my  old  woolly  pate  bust  Miss  Mad'line's  silber 
coffee-pot  all  to  smash,  an'  ye  das'sen't  do  dat  L  " 

"  Shet  up  yer  sass,  Pete,"  ordered  old  Hitty,  who 
was  Pete's  mother.  "  I  wisht  thar'sew//*/be  a  wed- 
din  or  somefin'  in  dis  house,  I  does!  I'd  jes'  like 
to  show  you  young  niggahs  what  rale,  fust-quality 
cookin'  is,  fur  onct!  " 

"Golly!  wouldn't  we  git  a  lot  o'  goodies!" 
chuckled  Pete,  far  enough  from  his  "  mamma"  to 
turn  a  somersault  for  the  admiration  of  half-a-dozen 
little  woolly-heads.  "  Wisht  Miss  Marshy  and 
Marse  LeDru  done  hab  dere  splicing  right  soon! 
Reckon  Sam  an'  Liny  Leslie  done  hop-ober-de- 
broomstick  'bout  de  same  time!  Ki-yi!  "  "You 
shet  up!  "  said  Sam,  who  for  some  reason  did  not 
look  as  pleasant  as  usual.  He  made  a  grab  at 
Pete's  black  pate  as  he  passed,  adding,  "  Take  yer- 
self  down  to  de  stable,  an'  help  wid  de  hosses. 
Young  folks  is  a-gwine  ridin',  an  Marse  Vance  tole 
me  to  hurry  up! 

Pete  obeyed,  while  Sam,  with  a  lingering  air, 
and  a  look  at  old  Aunt  Nerve  as  if  he  had  half-a- 
mind  to  say  something,  followed  more  slowly,  shak- 


68  A   SUCCESSFUL   WOOER, 

ing  his  head  dubiously  and  muttering  to  himself  all 
the  way  to  the  stable. 

Mr.  LeDru  did  not  join  the  the  riders  that  morn- 
ing, pleading  a  head-ache  as  an  excuse.  Marcia 
and  Vance  set  out  without  him,  accompanying  two 
young  ladies  who  had  spent  the  previous  day  and 
night  at  the  old  hall  and  were  now  returning  home. 

They  left-  the  amiable  Louis  resting  upon  a  sofa 
in  the  back  parlor.  But  not  long  did  he  remain 
there  after  their  departure. 

Presenting  himself  at  the  door  of  the  Squire's 
library  he  tapped  for  admission. 

"  Come  in,"  came  from  within. 

Louis  softly  opened  the  door. 

Squire  Douglas  was  writing,  but  he  at  once  laid 
aside  his  pen. 

"  Come  in,  Louis,"  he  said,  cordially.  "  Be 
seated  and  make  yourself  at  home." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  interrupt  you,  sir,"  began  Louis. 

"  Not  at  all!  Not  at  all,  sir.  I  was  not  busy  at 
anything  important.  Well,  I  suppose  those  young- 
sters are  off?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  they  are  gone." 

"  And  how  is  your  headache?     Better,  I  hope," 

"  Yes,  sir,  thank  you,  it  is  better.  Though  to 
tell  the  truth,  it  was  not  so  much  the  headache  that 
kept  me  at  home,  as  a  desire  to  speak  with  you  upon 
a  matter  of  importance,"  confessed  Mr.  Louis,  with 
an  ingenuous  air.  "  Can  you  spare  me  a  few 
moments?  " 

"  Certainly,  certainly  !  As  many  as  you  please, 
Louis.  What  is  the  trouble  ?  Money  matters 
short?  If  so,  command  me,  without  hesitation." 

"  No,  sir,  no.  I  am  not  in  need  of  means. 
Thanks  for  your  generous  offer,  however.  Though 
indeed,  I  do  not  regard  money  as  of  the  first 
importance,"  said  the  wily  Louis. 

"  Ha,  ha  !     Don't  you  ?     Well,  boy,  you  differ 


A  SUCCESSFUL  WOOER.  69 

from  most  men,  there!  "  said  the  honest  old  Squire, 
who  had  no  idea  that  money  was  Mr.  Louis'  chief 
idol.  "What  is  it,  then?  I  hope  you  have  some 
favor  to  ask. " 

"  Indeed  I  have,  Squire.  I  came  to  ask  the 
greatest  favor  you  could  possibly  bestow  upon  me." 

"  What  is  it,  Louis,  my  boy  ?  Your  father's  son 
need  not  hesitate  to  ask  anything. " 

"  You  honor  me  deeply,  Squire." 

"  No,  I  only  yield  you  a  claim  scarcely  less  than 
my  own  son  would  have,  were  I  so  happy  as  to 
possess  one.  I  wish  I  were!  I  wish  I  were!" 

"  Then  take  me  for  a  most  unworthy  one,  dear 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Louis,  in  his  most  persuasive  tones. 
"  It  is  a  most  presumptuous  request,  I  am  aware, 
but  I  love  your  daughter  deeply — devotedly. 
Give  her  to  me,  and  let  me  be  a  son  to  you." 

Squire  Douglas  sat  perfectly  silent  for  a  few 
moments.  Then  he  asked,  in  tones  of  deep  feeling, 
".What  does  she  say?  " 

"  I  have  not  spoken  to  her  yet,"  frankly  said  the 
admirable  Louis,  with  an  innocent  air.  V  I  thought 
it  right,  and  only  right,  knowing  how  precious  she 
is  to  you,  to  obtain  your  sanction  first." 

"  Right,  Louis,"  said  the  Squire,  warmly,  "quite 
right  and  noble,  and  worthy  of  you.  Few  young 
men  in  these  days  have  the  manliness  to  take  that 
course.  When  they  make  a  choice  they  generally 
leave  the  old  folks  quite  out  of  sight." 

"  I  remember  that  your  claim  is  much  older  than 
mine,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Louis. 

"  So  it  is,  my  boy.  Well,  well!  it  is  the  course 
of  nature,  I  suppose.  And  since  you  have  placed 
so  much  confidence  in  me,  I  will  do  the  same  by 
you,  Louis.  I  am  an  old  man.  In  a  few  years  at 
most  I  must  depart,  and  the  places  which  now  know 
me  shall  know  me  no  more.  It  is  my  dearest  wish, 
when  that  day  comes,  to  leave  my  only  daughter 


70  A   SUCCESSFUL   WOOER. 

with  a  kind  and  loving  protector.  I  know  of  no 
man  to  whom  I  would  give  her  more  willingly  than 
to  yourself." 

The  young  man  rose,  grasped  the  old  gentleman's 
hand  and  pressed  it  warmly. 

"Thank  you,  Squire!  Thank  you  a  thousand 
times!  Words  will  not  express  what  I  feel  at  this 
moment"  (which  was  quite  true,  Mr.  Louis,  for  a 
wonder).  "  Have  I  really  your  permission  to 
address  Miss  Marcia?  " 

"  Yes,  Louis,  if  she  consents,  I  shall  not  object." 

"  Thank  you  again,  Squire.  My  future  life  shall 
show  how  I  will  return  your  trust." 

"  If  I  were  not  already  convinced  of  your  worth, 
Louis,  I  would  never  give  my  consent,  as  you  well 
know,"  said  Squire  Douglas,  gravely.  "  Sit  down, 
my  boy,  there  are  yet  one  or  two  minor  matters  to 
speak  of,  I  am  on  the  down-hill  side  of  life,  now  — 
I  have  not  a  great  ways  further  to  journey,  at  the 
longest.  I  have  buried  the  wife  of  my  youth  and 
two  fair  daughters  —  all  I  have  loved,  except  my 
Marcia.  She  is  the  darling  of  my  old  age,  Louis." 

"  I  can  well  believe  that,  sir!  "  said  Louis,  in 
tones  of  tender  respect. 

"  Then,  my  boy,  if  I  give  her  to  you,  you  must 
promise  that  she  shall  still  live  here,  until  I  go 
hence,  at  least.  Of  course  I  should  expect  a  yearly 
visit  to  your  own  estate,  but  this  old  house  is  big 
enough  for  a  home  for  all  of  us.  Will  you  agree  to 
that?  " 

Now,  if  Squire  Douglas  had  only  known  it,  he 
was  removing  the  last  stumbling  block  from  Mr. 
LeDru's  way. 

There  were  reasons,  not  altogether  to  his  credit, 
which  made  Louis  quite  ready  to  avoid  taking  a 
bride  to  South  Carolina,  at  least  for  the  present. 

It  was,  therefore,  with  unfeigned  heartiness  that 
he  answered  promptly: 


MARCIA  S   DECISION.  7 1 

"  I  agree  with  all  my  heart,  Squire!  I  could 
hardly  bear  to  think  of  separating  so  happy  a 
family.  My  affairs  can  easily  remain  as  they  are  at 
present,  in  the  hands  of  a  trusty  agent.  I  should, 
for  my  own  sake,  prefer  a  home  here,  among  the 
society  so  dear  and  pleasant  to  me.  You  remember 
I  have  neither  father  nor  mother  —  no  family  ties, 
as  Marcia  has. " 

"  Yes,  yes;  you  have  the  very  same,  Louis!  Her 
family  is  yours,  from  to-day!"  interrupted  the  kind 
old  Squire. 

"  I  thank  you,  sir!  "  said  Mr.  Louis,  bowing  low. 
"  My  chief  happiness  will  hereafter  lie  in  consulting 
the  wishes  of  those  who  are  so  kind  to  me." 

Fine  words,.  Mr.  Louis,  had  they  been  but  true 
ones! 

"  Then,  Louis,  my  son,  I  give  you  my  full  con- 
sent. And  may  God  deal  with  you  as  you  shall 
deal  with  my  darling  daughter 

Louis  LeDru  bowed  his  head  again,  and  extended 
his  hand  to  clasp  the  one  which  the  noble  old  gen- 
tleman held  out  to  him.  But  with  all  his  hardihood 
he  dared  not  say  "  Amen  "  to  those  solemn  words 
from  the  loving  father's  heart. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

MARCIA'S   DECISION. 

"  Nay, 

I  know  not,"  she  murmured,  "  I  follow  the  way  — 
I  cannot  foresee  to  what  end.     But  I  blindly  go  on." 

—  Meredith. 

Vance  and  Marcia,  leaving  their  young  friends  in 
Frankfort,  rode  gaily  home.  It  was  the  first  ride 
they  had  enjoyed  alone  together  since  Mr.  LeDru 
came. 


72  MARCIA'S   DECISION. 

It  was  so  like  the  old,  happy  time  that  they  were 
sorry  when  the  familiar  gate -way  came  into  view. 

Mr.  LeDru  was  not  visible  when  they  rode  up  to 
the  house.  Rosa,  Who  chanced  to  be  standing  on 
the  veranda,  said  he  had  gone  up  to  his  room  to  lie 
down. 

"  I  suppose  his  headache  is  no  better,  then,"  said 
Marcia,  with  kindly  sympathy. 

Sam,  who  was  ready  to  lead  away  the  horses, 
looked  up  suddenly  as  though  he  had  something  to 
say,  but  took  a  second  thought,  scratched  his 
woolly  pate  and  marched  off,  without  telling  that 
as  he  came  up  from  the  river  bank  a  few  moments 
ago,  with  a  string  of  the  Squire's  favorite  trout,  he 
had  seen  Mr  LeDru  and  a  young  lady  in  a  white 
dress  walking  in  the  woods. 

Marcia  hurried  up  to  her  own  room  to  take  off 
her  hat  and  habit  before  dinner. 

"  What  dress  shall  I  bring,  Miss  Marshy?  "  asked 
Rosa,  who  was  in  waiting,  as  usual. 

"Bring  my  pink  tissue,"  said  Marcia.  Some- 
thing, she  could  hardly  tell  what,  prompted  her  to 
wear  the  dress  she  had  worn  when  she  last  rode 
with  her  cousin  —  the  eventful  day  of  Mr.  LeDru's 
arrival. 

She  put  it  on  now,  and  fastened  some  sprigs  of 
sweet-fern  at  belt  and  bosom. 

She  was  rewarded  when  she  met  Vance  in  the 
hall,  on  her  way  down-stairs  He  stopped,  and  a 
smile  good  to  see  lit  his  fine  face,  as  he  said,  warmly: 

"  My  dear,  little  girl!  You  look  more  like  your 
own,  dear  self  than  I've  seen  you  look  in  many  a 
day!" 

"  Why,  haven't  I  been  like  myself  lately?  "  asked 
Marcia,  hastily. 

"  Not  altogether,"  answered  Vance. 

He  put  his  two  hands  on  her  shoulders,  bent  his 
tall  head,  and  looked  kindly,  but  keenly,  into  her 


MARCIA'S  DECISION.  73 

face,  "  My  dear,  little  sister,  is  there  nothing 
troubling  you?  Are  you  quite  happy?  "  he  asked, 
tenderly. 

Marcia  faltered  for  an  instant,  but  the  thought, 
"Florence!"  flew  into  her  brain  —  she  controlled 
herself,  and,  raising  her  eyes  to  meet  his,  she 
answered: 

"  To  be  sure,  Vance !  Why  shouldn't  I  be  happy?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Marcia;  but  sometimes,  of  late, 
I  have  fancied  you  were  not."  He  suddenly  drew 
her  into  his  strong,  kind,  brotherly  clasp,  laid  his 
cheek  down  on  her  bright  head,  and  said,  as  if  in 
solemn  benediction,  "  God  bless  my  little  cousin, 
and  keep  her  life  bright  forever!  " 

Then  he  released  her;  and  neither  of  them 
dreamed  how  needful  that  earnest  benediction  was 
at  that  moment,  or  how  near  the  cloud  was,  even 
now,  hovering  over  her  fair,  young  head. 

Vance  went  on  to  the  parlor,  but  Marcia  turned 
and  fled  back  to  her  own  room  —  she  must  strug- 
gle for  composure  before  she  could  present  herself 
down-stairs. 

What  had  Vance  seen  ?  How  much  did  he 
guess  ?  Oh,  she  must  guard  her  secret  better 
than  that.  So  well  that  no  one  could  guess  she  had 
one.  How  kind  he  was  ;  how  good  !  Oh,  how 
could  she  bear  life,  knowing  that  his  best  love  must 
always  be  given  to  Florence  !  Florence  !  Ftorence! 
How  the  name  rung  in  her  ears!  Yet  Florry  was 
a  noble  girl,  worthy  even  of  Vance. 

A  tap  at  her  door  startled  her,  and  Miss  Made- 
line's voice  said  in  the  hall,  "  Marcia,  if  you  are 
dressed  your  papa  wants  you  in  the  library." 

"  Yes,  Aunty,  I'm  dressed  ;  I'll  come  directly," 
answered  Marcia,  rising  and  smoothing  the  last 
shadow  from  her  fair  brow,  before  she  went  to  meet 
her  father.  A  summons  from  him  was  nothing 
unusual,  so  she  did  not  expect  any  startling  disclos- 


74  MARCIA'S  DECISION. 

ure.  But  one  glance  at  his  face,  as  she  entered  the 
library  told  her  that  something  more  than  common 
had  happened. 

"  What  do  you  want,  papa  ?"  she  asked,  seating 
herself  on  a  hassock  beside  his  chair,  clasping  her 
dimpled  hand  over  his  knee.  "  Are  you  well  to-day? 
You  look  very  sober,  I  think." 

"  Quite  well,  darling,  and  happy,"  replied  the 
good  old  Squire,  fondly  stroking  her  brown  hair. 
"  Well  and  happy,  and  anxious  to  see  my  little  girl 
happy  too." 

"  Well,  papa,  I  am  happy  enough  with  you. " 

"  God  keep  you  so  !  God  keep  your  young  life 
bright  forever,  my  child,"  said  the  kind  father,  un- 
consciously repeating  the  words  Vance  had  spoken  a 
few  moments  before. 

Marcia  noticed  it,  and  somehow  it  impressed  her 
deeply.  She  felt  as  though  something  very  import- 
ant was  just  about  to  take  place.  She  sat  silent, 
leaning  her  head  against  the  arm  of  her  father's 
chair,  waiting  for  him  to  speak  again. 

Presently  he  asked: 

"  Is  my  birdie  tired  of  the  old  home-nest?" 

"  No,  papa!  No,  indeed  !  "  replied  Marcia, 
quickly.  "  Why  should  I  be?" 

"  Youth  loves  change,  daughter." 

"  Not  I,  for  one,  papa.  No  doubt  there  are 
grander  places,  finer  sights  in  the  world,  but  I  do 
not  long  for  them.  I  never  want  to  leave  my  dear 
old  home  and  my  good  old  papa.  I  hope  you  are 
not  thinking  of  sending  me  away!  " 

"  And  if  I  were,  daughter?  " 

"  Then,  papa,  I  should  surely  rebel!" 

The  old  Squire  smiled,  and  said: 

"  No,  darling,  I  shall  not  send  you  away.  While 
I  live,  I  could  hardly  consent  to  let  you  go  for  more 
than  a  few  days.  But  that  will  only  be  for  a  few 


MARCIA'S  DECISION.  75 

more  years,  and  then  you  will  need  another  pro- 
tector. " 

"  Papa!  don't!  "  said  Marcia,  h(ff  lip  beginning  to 
quiver. 

"  Bear  with  me  for  a  moment,  daughter.  I  say 
this  because  there  is  something  else  to  follow.  Can 
you  guess  what?" 

"  No,  papa,  I  never  was  good  at  guessing.  Noth- 
ing bad,  I  hope  !  " 

"  If  I  did  not  think  it  very  good,  darling,  I  would 
not  have  given  my  consent,  be  sure  of  that.  I 
had  a  talk  with  Louis  while  you  were  out." 

Marcia  sat  quite  still.  She  knew  what  was  com^ 
ing  now!  •* 

"  Can't  you  guess  what  he  wanted?" 

A  little  shake  of  her  head  by  way  of  reply  -, 
nothing  more, 

"  He  asked  me  to  give  him  my  precious  daugk 
ter." 

Marcia  clung  tightly  to  the  arm  of  her  father's 
chair,  her  face  hidden  upon  it,  but  still  did  not 
speak. 

Presently  Squire  Douglas  went  on:  "  Louis  is 
a  noble  fellow,  as  we  all  know.  He  is  of  irreproach- 
able family  connection,  and  has  wealth,  though  that 
is  of  minor  importance,  as  you  will  have  enough 
for  both." 

The  upright  old  gentleman  had  not  the  least  idea 
that  two  points  in  his  statement  were  entirely  untrue. 
Firstly,  Mr.  Louis's  "  nobility  "  was  greatly  to  be 
doubted.  And  second,  by  far  the  greater  portion 
of  his  father's  wealth,  which  he  inherited,  had  been 
wasted  in  "  riotous  living,"  which  was  his  main 
reason  for  coveting  Marcia's  fortune. 

But  the  squire,  believing  all  he  said,  continued: 
"  The  chief  thing  is  that  he  loves  you  truly.  Could 
you  be  happy  with  him,  when  the  old  father  is  gone, 
Marcia?" 


76  MARCIA'S  DECISION. 

Marcia  rose,  seated  herself  upon  her  father's 
knee,  wound  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  laying 
her  face  closely  against  his  cheek,  she  asked:  "  Are 
you  in  haste  to  be  rid  of  me,  papa?" 

"  No,  never!  "  answered  the  old  squire,  quickly 
clasping  her  closely.  "  But  I  shall  not  be  rid  of 
you  by  this  means.  Louis  promised  that  your 
home  should  be  here,  as  long  as  I  live,  at  least. 
Instead  of  losing  a  daughter,  I  gain  a  son. " 

"  That  was  kind  of  him,"  said  Marcia  thought- 
fully. 

"  How  is  it  to  be?"  asked  her  father.  "  My  con- 
sent, of  course,  hangs  upon  yours.  When  Louis 
asks  you,  as  he  is  now  waiting  to  do,  what  shall 
you  tell  him?" 

"  Oh,  papa,  why-  need  I  tell  him  anything?  I 
don't  want  to  be  married.  I  want  to  stay  here 
always,  with  you  and  Aunt  Maddy,  just  as  we  are 
now. " 

She  did  not  include  Vance,  but  the  squire  did  not 
notice  the  omission.  H£  answered,  gently:  "  You 
know  that  cannot  always  be,  daughter.  We  are 
old — you  are  young.  In  the  natural  course  of 
events,  changes  must  soon  come.  The  dearest  wish 
I  have  is  to  know  that  when  I  die  I  can  leave  you 
safely  sheltered  from  the  snares  which  are  sure  to 
be  set  for  a  young,  innocent,  orphan  heiress." 

"  Don't,  papa!"   whispered  Marcia,  again. 

"  Bear  with  me  yet  a  moment,  darling!  Unless 
there  is  —  see  here,  Marcia,  there  is  no  one  else 
you  prefer,  is  there?" 

Could  Marcia  say  there  was,  and  that  '  some  one' 
Florence  Edward's  lover?  No,  never!  She 
answered  firmly: 

"  No  one  else,  papa,"  believing  she  spoke  truly, 
for  she  was  determined  not  to  care  for  Vance. 

"  Then  you  could  learn  to  care  for  Louis,  couldn't 
you.  dear?  " 


MARCIAS   DECISION.  77 

"  Papa,  will  you  tell  me  your  own  wishes?  Do 
you  want  me  to  marry  Mr.  LeDru?  " 

"  If  your  own  heart  consents,  yes,  daughter.  I 
know  of  no  one  to  whom  I  could  resign  you  so 
willingly  as  to  Louis.  I  used  to  hope  that  you  and 
Vance  would  fancy  each  other,  and  so  unite  the  old 
family  estate."  (Oh,  how  fast  Marcia's  heart  was 
beating  and  throbbing  now.  But  the  Squire  could 
not  see  it,  nor  hear  it,  so  he  calmly  went  on.)  "  But 
as  neither  of  you  have  seemed  to  think  of  that, 
Louis  comes  next,  and  seems  to  me  like  a  son 
already.  But  the  choice  is  left  for  yoji,  daughter  — 
you  must  make  the  decision  yourself." 

Marcia  kept  her  face  hidden  from  her"  father's 
gaze,  and  answered,  softly, 

"  If  it  will  please  you,  papa,  I  —  I  give  my  con- 
sent. " 

"  Freely,  my  daughter?  " 

"  Yes,  papa!  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  I  hope  the 
decision  may  prove  for  your  truest  happiness.  Now 
go,  darling;  I  promised  Louis  to  send  you  to  him. 
He  is  waiting  for  you  in  the  back  parlor.  Go  to 
him  with  your  father's  blessing,  my  child.  Yoir 
never  gave  me  an  hour's  grief  in  your  life,  and  may- 
God  bless  you,  my  precious  girl,  even  as  you  have 
blessed  your  father!  " 

One  close  clasp,  two  or  three  silent  kisses  from 
Marcia,  whose  heart  was  too  full  for  words,  and 
then  she  left  the  library. 

Once  in  the  hall,  a  wild,  indefinable  impulse 
moved  her  to  fly  to  her  own  room,  instead  of  going 
to  the  parlor. 

"  But  what  is  the  difference?  "  she  asked  herself. 
"  I  only  live  to  please  papa,  if  this  pleases  him, 
why  not?  I  like  Louis  as  well  as  I  could  like  any 
one,  now —  I  could  never  love  any  other 

than  —  than  Vance!  I  will  say  it  once!  I  do  love 


78  VANCE   IX    SEARCH   OK   A    HISTORY. 

him  —  but  he  will  soon  marry  Florence,  and  then 
I  could  not  be  so  wicked  as  to  love  another  wo- 
man's husband.  If  I  marry  Louis,  I  need  never 
leave  papa.  Come,  I  won't  break  my  heart  for  — 
anybody!  I  dare  say  I  shall  be  as  happy  as  most 
folks,  myself,  and  if  not  —  well,  I  can  trust  the  God 
my  mother  loved,  to  take  care  of  me!  I  have 
decided." 

She  had  gone  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  But  she 
turned  and  went  into  the  parlor,  where  Louis  came 
eagerly  forward  to  meet  her. 

An  hour  later  she  had  given  him  the  care  of  her 
future.  But  had  she  realized  all  that  step  implied, 
she  would  have  shrunk  with  horror  from  his  very 
presence. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

VANCE  IN  SEARCH  OF  A   HISTORY. 

"  This  life  is  a  war  of  the  false  and  the  true, 
Yet  life  is  a  truth.     Though  so  complex  to  view, 
That  its  latest  veracity  few  of  us  find." 

Meredith. 

SQUIRE  DOUGLAS  would  not  have  the  engage- 
ment kept  a  secret.  He  announced  it  to  Miss 
Madeline  and  Vance  at  the  supper  table,  and  as 
Aunt  Nerve  and  Rosa  were  both  in  waiting,  of 
course  the  news  flew  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Wai,  Lord!  I'se  glad  to  hear  it,  I  is!"  ejac- 
ulated old  Aunt  Kitty.  "  I  hopes  we'll  hab  de 
bigges'  weddin'  eber  was  seed  in  dese  diggins,  I 
does!  I  doesn't  want  none  o'  dem  Frenchy-fied 
cooks  fetch  up  from  Louisville,  dough!  I  'gwine 
tell  Mis'  Mad'line  so,  too!  I  'gwine  tell  her  good, 
you  hyar  me!  " 

"  I'se  'shamed  of  yer,  Hitty  Douglas!  "  retorted 
Aunt  Nerve,  with  severe  dignity.  "  All  yer  tinks 
ob  is  cookin'  an'  bakin'.  I'd  be  plum  'shamed  ob 


VANCE  IN   SEARCH   OF  A   HISTORY,  79 

myself,  ef  I  had  a  soul  as  couldn't  git  'bove  sick. 
Yer  doesn't  consider  Miss  Marshy  at  all!  " 

"  Yes,  I  does,"  persisted  Hitty.  "  But  I  knows 
Mis'  Marshy  kain't  lib  widout  cookin',  an'  I  'gwine 
do  it  fur  her." 

"  Wai,  pore  lamb!"  said  old  Nerve,  "  eberybody 
say  it  mighty  fine  match,  but  dey  can't  git  me  to 
say  so!  To  be  shuah,  I'se  nuffin'  but  pore  ole 
cul'lud  'oman,  but  I  nussed  Mis'  Marshy  when  she's 
a  teenty  baby,  an'  I  doesn't  like  to  see  her  heabin' 
herse'f  'way  on  no  sick/  Nobody  ain't  'gwine  mek 
me  say  so,  neyder!  I  tells  you  all  dat,  good,  too!" 

"  Like  to  know  what  ye  km  say  'gin  Marse 
LeDru?  "  grumbled  Hitty. 

"  I  hain't  'gwine  to  say  nuffin'  'tall!  But  when  I 
knows  —  I  knows,  dat's  all!  " 

"  What's  dat  you  know,  Aunt  Nerve?  "questioned 
Sam,  who  was  eating  his  corncake  with  a  very  sober 
countenance.  "  Anything  'ferrin'  to  Marse  Louis?  " 

"  Ef 'twas,  I  hope  I'd  hab  de  sense  to  keep  it  to 
myse'f !  "  replied  Aunt  Nerve,  loftily.  "  But  f 
doesn't  know  any  sahcumstances  agin'  Marse 
LeDru,  on'y  I  has  my  'pinions,  Sam!  I  'spose  he 
bery  'ristercratic,  but  I  'low  he  hain't  nary  notch 
'bove  the  Douglases,  I  does!" 

"  I  'gree  wid  yer,  Aunt  Nerve,"  said  Sam.  "  How 
does  ole  Marse  'pear  to  like  it?  " 

"  Pow'ful  well,  Sam!  Mis'  Mad'line,  too,  she 
orful  tickled,  ye  kin  see  dat!  She  sots  on  Marse 
Louis  a  sight,  Mis'  Mad'line  does!  Marse  Vance, 
he  nebber  said  a  word,  but  he  looked  mighty 
se'rus. " 

"  Ye  don't  know  when  it's  to  be?  "  inquired  Hitty. 

"  No,  chile;  I  reckon  dey  hain't  sot  no  time,  yit. 
But,  la!  Hitty,  yer  needn't  be  foolin'  yerself  'bout 
dem  ar  cooks  an'  'parfectioners  from  Louisville! 
Dar'll  be  some  on  'em  hyar  a-bossin'  us,  you'll  see! 
Kaintuck  cookin'  good  'nufif  fur  our  folkses,  but 


8O  VANCE   IN   SEARCH    OF   A   HISTORY. 

when  it  comes  to  dem  ar  black-eyed,  s\veet-smilin' 
stuck-up-fied  Car'liny  big-bugs  —  sho!  go  'long! 
I'se  plum  sick  o'  de  lot  ob  'em!  Sam,  you's  a 
lookin''  mighty  downcas'!  Ain't  you  glad  to  hyar 
you's  'gwine  to  hab  a  new  Mas'r?  " 

"  Reckon  I  hain't  so  mighty  glad, "growled  Sam, 
who,  for  perhaps  better  reason,  shared  old  Nerve's 
antipathy  for  LeDru. 

He  had  never  given  it  expression,  but  he  might 
have  done  so  now,  but  that  Pete  at  that  instant 
came  tumbling  into  the  kitchen,  calling  out:  "  You 
Sam!  You  lazy  niggah,  Marse  Vance  say  you 
cotch  up  his  hoss  an'  hab  him  to  de  gate  in  half  an 
•'ouah. " 

"  Now,  what  dat  fo',  when  I  turn  dem  hosses  out 
in  de  pastur'  long  time  ago?  "  grumbled  Sam.  But 
he  rose  at  once  to  obey.  He  clapped  his  old  hat 
on  his  head,  looked  at  Aunt  Nerve  as  if  he  wanted 
to  say  something,  gave  his  old  trousers  a  hitch,  and 
then  turned  and  went  off  after  the  horses. 
*  When  Vance  was  ready  to  mount,  Sam  stood  by 
and  looked  up  into  his  face,  with  that  same  curious 
look,  as  if  he  were  about  to  speak. 

But  if  there  was  anything  he  wanted  to  say,  he 
kept  it  back  a  second  time,  and  let  Vance  go  his 
way  without  a  word. 

Vance  was  half-stunned  by  the  news  of  the  en- 
gagement. Something  of  the  kind  he  expected, 
but  not  quite  so  soon,  and  no  one  dreamed  how 
sharply  the  blow  struck  him. 

He  saw  his  dream  fulfilled.  He  knew  that  LeDru 
was  utterly  unworthy,  and  that  before  Marcia  there 
now  yawned  a  terrible  gulf,  which  w-^uld  swallow 
up  all  the  happiness  of  her  young  life,  if  she  were 
allowed  to  plunge  into  it.. 

But  what  could  he  do? 

Denounce  LeDru  to  his  uncle?  No,  common 
justice  would  require  proof,  and  he  had  none  to 


VANCE  IN   SEARCH   OF   A   HISTORY.  8 1 

offer.  And  to  whom  could  he  turn  for  nelp?  Only 
to  one  friend — to  Florence.  He  remembered  her 
promise  now.  He  did  not  fear  to  trust  her,  he 
would  go  to  her,  and  tell  her  all.  She  might  sug- 
gest some  way  to  save  Marcia,  and  if  nothing  more, 
she  could  comfort  him  a  little  with  kind  words. 

As  he  passed  through  the  hall,  going  out,  Marcia 
came  downstairs. 

"  Where  away,  truant?"  she  asked,  smiling. 

"  Not  far  —  only  over  to  Lionel's  a  little  while," 
answered  Vance. 

But  the  smile  faded  from  Marcia's  face  She 
knew  he  was  going  to  see  Florence 

But  Florence  did  not  expect  him  that  evening 
And  as  soon  as  she  met  him  in  the  parlor,  she  felt 
sure  that  his  call  was  connected  with  the  promise 
she  had  lately  given  him. 

"  Vance,  you  look  so  sober,  I  am  sure  you  must 
have  bad  news  for  me,"  she  said,  when  they  had 
exchanged  greetings. 

"  I  have  news,  certainly,"  said  Vance.  "  Good 
or  bad,  as  you  may  consider  it." 

"  I  am  all  impatience  to  hear  it,"  said  Florence. 

"  Well,  here  it  is,  Florry.  My  cousin  Marcia  is 
engaged  to  Louis  LeDru. " 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  a  few  moments. 
Florence  was  too  utterly  astonished  and  startled  to 
speak.  Vance  said  presently,  "  I  wonder  if  you 
think  that  good  news?" 

"  No,  indeed,  Vance!  " 

"  Why  not,  Florry?" 

"  I  don't  like  Mr.  LeDru." 

"  Again,  why  not,  Florry?" 

"  I'm  afraid  that  I  cannot  give  you  a  tangible 
reason,  but  I  don't  like  him.  Do  you?" 

"  No,  certainly.  But  I  can  give  a  reason^— he  is 
a  bad  man,  Florry.  " 

"  Yes,  I  feel  that  he  is,  Vance. " 


82  VANCE   IN   SEARCH   OF   A   HISTORY. 

"  And  I  know  it!  But  I  don't  know  how  to  prove 
it.  Oh,  Florry,  if  I  only  could!  "  Vance  bowed 
his  face  upon  his  hands,  in  deep  distress 

Florence  was  touched  by  his  grief.  She  came 
over  and  sat  down  beside  him,  and  laying  her  hand 
upon  his  shoulder,  she  said,  kindly: 

"  Don't  give  up,  Vance.  Perhaps  it  can  be 
proved.  I  will  help  you  all  I  can. " 

"  Florence,  dear  sister,  I  know  you  will.  That 
is  why  I  came  to  you. " 

"  Yes,  Vance,  call  me  '  sister,'  and  trust  me  as 
you  would  your  own  sister.  " 

"  I  do  trust  you,  fully,  Florence,  and  I  feel  that 
you  can  help  me,  if  any  one  can.  And  oh,  Florry, 
I  must  do  something!  There  must  be  someway 
to  save  Marcia  from  a  life  of  misery  And  my 
happiness,  as  well  as  hers,  depends  upon  finding  it  " 

"  Yes,  Vance,  I  know  that,"  said  Florence,  qui- 
etly. 

"I  never  told  any  one  before,  but  I  felt  as  if  you 
knew  it,  Florry." 

"  Yes  I  saw  it  when  no  one  else  did  And 
Vance,  if  he  had  never  come,  I  know  she  would 
have  cared  for  you  " 

"  I'm  not  sure  of  that,  Florence  But  I  must 
save  her,  just  the  same.  I  dislike  to  speak  ill  of  a 
guest  in  my  own  house  —  or  my  uncle's,  which 
comes  to  the  same  thing  in  this  case  —  but  I  would 
not  even  trust  Louis  LeDru  with  the  happiness  of 
one  of  our  colored  girls,  let  alone  that  of  my  dear 
cousin." 

"  Well,  Vance,  I  agree  with  you  that  I  did  not 
like  him  the  first  time  I  saw  him.  And  the  more  I 
see  of  him,  the  less  I  like  him." 

"  It  is  odd,  Florry,  that  you  are  about  the  only 
girl  in  the  neighborhood  who  didn't  fall  down  at 
his  feet  at  once.  But  you  have  such  a  clear  insight 
into  what  people  really  are,  I  suppose  that  accounts 


VANCE   IN   SEARCH    OF   A    HISTORY.  83 

for  it.  The  faculty  isn't  given  to  everyone,  I  tell 
you." 

Florence  smiled  a  little  sadly,  but  made  him  no 
answer.  Vance  had  not  a  bit  of  vanity  in  his 
nature,  so  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  one  reason 
LeDru  had  no  effect  with  Florence,  was  because 
her  heart  was  so  filled  with  another  image  —  and 
that  image  his  own. 

After  a  moment's  thought,  Florence  said,  "  Did 
you  not  tell  me  once  that  you  were  not  intimate 
with  him,  when  you  were  in  college?" 

"  I  was  not  at  all  intimate  with  him. " 

"  Yet  I  suppose  you  knew  something  of  his  life 
there?" 

"  Yes,  to  a  degree." 

"  Was  it  to  his  credit,  or  was  he  what  is  usually 
termed  '  a  fast  young  man?  '  " 

Vance  hesitated  an  instant,  then  said:  "  Florry, 
if  I  speak  to  you  at  all  on  this  subject,  it  will  have 
to  be  very  plainly.  Do  you  give  me  liberty?" 

"  Certainly.  Speak  just  as  you  would  to  your 
own  sister,  Vance. " 

"  You  are  a  dear  sister  to  me,  Florry,  God  bless 
you!"  said  Vance,  warmly  clasping  the  slender 
hand  which  lay  on  her  lap. 

"  I  am  happy  to  have  you  look  upon  me  as  such," 
said  Florence,  with  sweet  seriousness.  "  And  if  I 
help  you,  of  course  you  must  speak  freely  to  me." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  privilege.  Well,  then,  Louis's 
life  in  college  was  that  of  a  fast  young  man  with 
unlimited  money.  I  know  of  his  taking  part  in 
orgies  which  you  would  blush  to  hear  of.  But  you 
are  aware  that  such  things  are  too  generally  looked 
upon  as  venal  faults.  If  I  went  to  my  uncle  and 
told  him  of  it,  ten  to  one  his  answer  would  be, 
"  Oh,  well,  Louis  was  sowing  his  wild  oats,  then! 
He  will  settle  down  now,  and  make  all  the  better 
husband,  because  he  has  the  crop  in." 


84  VANCE   IN   SEARCH   OF   A   HISTORY. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  are  right,  Vance." 

"  And  even  if  he  took  Louis  to  task,  that  young 
man  is  no  fool,  Florry!  He  would  smooth  it  ail 
over,  and  make  black  look  white,  and  what  would 
he  gained?" 

"  Nothing  at  all —  unless  we  had  some  special 
point  to  work  from,"  said  Florence. 

"  There  was  one  thing,"  said  Vance,  musingly  — 
"  if  that  was  all  understood,  it  might  help  matters." 

"  What  was  it,  Vance?" 

"  It  was  a  story  connected  with  a  young  lady, 
which  made  a  great  buzz  in  the  class,  at  the  time. " 

"  Do  you  know  her  name?"  asked  Florence. 

"  I  did,  at  that  time  — I  declare,  I  can't  recall  it 
now,  though.  I  never  paid  much  attention  to  col- 
lege gossip.  I  wish  I  had,  to-night." 

"Oh,  Vance,  I  wish  so  too!"  cried  Florence, 
eagerly.  "It  strikes  me  —  yes,  it  is  borne  in  on 
my  mind  that  this  story  is  what  we  must  clear  up! 
We  must  find  that  girl,  to  save  poor,  innocent 
Marcia  from  a  terrible  fate!  We  must,  Vance!  " 

"  Florry!  Why,  how  you  look!  You  alarm  me! 
What  is  it  your  words  imply?" 

"  Vance,  I  can't  express  my  fears!  You  may  call 
me  fanciful,  superstitious,  anything  you  like,  but  I 
feel  that  everything  hinges  on  this  story.  What 
was  that  girl  to  him  ?" 

"  The  story  was  that  —  Florry,  I'm  not  even  sure 
of  that  —  but  there  was  a  report  among  the  students 
that  he  made  her  the  victim  of  a  mock  marriage." 

"  Well,  we  must  know  the  truth  of  this  affair," 
said  Florry,  with  an  air  of  firm  conviction;  "  and 
you  must  find  it  out,  Vance,  " 

But  where  is  the  clew  to  begin  on,  dear  Florry? 
I  don't  even  remember  the  girl's  name,  or  know 
where  she  was  then,  much  less  where  she  is  now." 

"  It  would  do  no  good  to  tell  your  uncle,"  said 
Florence,  thoughtfully. 


VANCE   IX   SEARCH   OF   A   HISTORY.  85 

"  No,  no!  As  I  told  you,  unless  we  could  bring 
positive  proof,  Louis  is  wily  enough  to  put  us  all 
to  the  blush,  and  come  out  the  very  picture  of  in- 
jured innocence." 

"  No  doubt  of  it.  He  must  not  even  suspicion 
what  we  are  about,"  said  Florence.  "  He  would 
be  armed  to  defeat  us  at  every  point.  I  wonder 
what  we  had  better  do  first?  " 

"  I  confess  I  don't  know,  Florry.  I  will  rack  my 
memory  to  see  if  I  can  recall  that  girl's  name;  and 
if  I  succeed,  I'll  let  you  know  at  once." 

"  Do  so,  Vance.  I  repeat,  that  I  feel  impressed 
to  find  out  all  possible  concerning  that  affair." 

"  I  shall  not  let  any  opportunity  slip  me,  you  may 
be  certain,"  said  Vance.  "  It  is  getting  late;  now 
I  will  go,  but  I'll  see  you  again,  soon.  Thank  you 
for  your  sympathy  and  kindness  to-night,  Florence. 
I  don't  know  what  I  should  do,  just  now,  without 
your  friendship." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  Vance!  It  is  a  great  pleasure 
to  have  you  trust  me.  I  hope  I  .shall  be  able  to 
give  you  some  real  help,  before  long." 

You  will,  I  am  sure.  Woman's  wit  is  worth 
more  than  man's  wisdom,  you  know.  Good  night, 
sister  Florence!  " 

"  Good  night,  my  brother." 

There  was  an  earnest  hand-clasp,  and  then  they 
parted. 

Marcia  was  sitting  on  the  verandah  with  Louis 
and  her  father  when  Vance  reached  home. 

"  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  evening?  "  she  asked, 
kindly. 

"  Very!  I  was  in  pleasant  company,  you  know," 
returned  Vance,  lightly,  not  dreaming  how  her 
heart  sank  at  his  words;  while  Marcia  did  not 
dream  that  she  had  been  the  object  of  his  visit  to 
Florence. 

Poor  Florry!     She   could   not   help  a   few  tears 


86  THE   CLEW   FOUND 

falling  after  Vance  had  left  her.  But  when  she 
looked  up  her  sweet  face  was  all  bright  and  noble. 

"  There, "she  said  to  herself,  "  I  have  sighted  my 
last  sight  for  Vance  Douglas!  Hereafter  he  shall 
indeed  by  my  brother,  and  I  will  help  him  as  a 
sister  should.  Between  us  Marcia  shall  be  saved 
from  the  man  we  both  believe  to  be  a  villain!  " 

Vance  retired  very  soon  after  he  returned  home. 
But  he  could  not  sleep.  Long,  long  he  lay  awake, 
studying  his  meager  knowledge  of  the  past,  vainly 
striving  to  make  his  memory  supply  the  "  missing 
links." 

"  But  I  will  not  give  up!  "  he  thought.  "  Not 
until  I  have  found  the  clew,  and  once  found,  I  will 
follow  it  to  the  bitter  end!  " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   CLEW   FOUND. 

"  Then  he  saw  for  one  moment,  a  figure  with  soft,  dusky  hair, 
which  he  swiftly  remembered." — Meredith. 

Louis  LEDRU  pleaded  for  an  early  wedding,  and 
the  good  Squire  did  not  oppose  him. 

"  Let  the  lad  have  his  way!  "  he  said.  "  It  isn't 
as  if  he  were  going  to  take  our  child  away  from  us. 
We  only  gain  him,  without  losing  her." 

"  But  the  child  is  so  young,  brother,"  objected 
Miss  Madeline.  "  There  is  time  enough  to  wait. 
And  all  her  sewing  has  to  be  done,  too." 

"Yes,  indeed!  I  don't  intend  to  be  married 
without  plenty  of  finery,  I  tell  you !  "  cried  Marcia, 
gaily. 

"  WeU,  well!  Suit  yourselves,  and  I'll  be  suited!" 
said  the  Squire. 

"  Next  month,"  pleaded  Louis. 

"  No  —  not  before  late  in  the  fall,  at  the  earliest. 


THE   CLEW   FOUND.  */ 

We  could  not  be  ready,"  said  both  Marcia  and 
Aunt  Madeline, 

It  was  settled  at  last  that  the  wedding  should 
come  off  some  time  during  the  autumn,  but  the  day 
was  not  yet  decided  upon 

A  dressmaker  came  out  from  Lexington,  and 
took  up  her  station  in  one  of  the  upper  rooms, 
making  up  endless  yards  of  linen,  lace  and  em- 
broidery, and  the  plainest  home  dresses.  The  ele- 
gant ones  were  to  be  made  in  Louisville  by  a 
fashionable  modiste.  Squire  Douglas  spared  neither 
pains,  time  or  money  in  pleasing  his  beloved 
daughter. 

Maggie  set  her  heart  on  having  Marcia  and  her- 
self married  together.  But  Squire  Douglas  and 
Mrs.  Leslie  had  both  set  their  hearts  on  one  old- 
fashioned,  home  wedding,  so  that  plan  had  to  be 
given  up. 

"  It's  too  bad,  so  it  is!  "  pouted  Maggie.  "  I  al- 
ways did  want  to  see  a  double  wedding.  And,  I 
declare!  we  might  have  one  yet.  Vance,  you  and 
Florry  get  married  when  Marcia  and  Louis  do. 
Can't  you?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not!  "  answered  Vance,  shaking  his 
head,  smiling.  "  Mr.  Edwards  would  insist  on 
Florry 's  appearing  in  her  own  parlor,  and  instead 
of  two  parties,  we  should  have  three,  you  see." 

"  Well,  it's  too  provoking?  "  said  Maggie.  "  Oh, 
see  here!  I'll  tell  you  what  we  can  do!  "  she  sud- 
denly added.  "  We  can  all  have  the  ceremony  at 
home  on  the  same  day,  and  then  give  a  joint  re- 
ception in  grand  style  at  our  house.  How  will  that 
do,  Marcia? 

"  I'll  agree  to  it,"  said  Marcia. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Vance?  " 

"  Oh,  talk  to  Florry!  I'm  willing  if  she  is."  re- 
turned Vance,  laughingly. 

But  if  he  had  guessed  that  Marcia  was  taking  all 


88  THE    CLEW   FOUND. 

this  gay  badinage  in  good  earnest,  and  really  be- 
lieved him  engaged  to  Florry,  he  would  not  have 
jested  over  it  for  one  instant. 

A  week  had  gone  by,  and  Vance  had  not  made 
one  step  in  his  discoveries  regarding  Mr.  Louis  Le- 
Dru. 

But  he  had  resolved,  if  he  could  learn  nothing  at 
home,  to  go  to  New  Haven,  and  see  what  could  be 
done  there. 

One  evening  a  few  friends  were  spending  the 
evening  at  Douglas  Hall.  Lionel  and  Maggie  were 
there,  also  Myra  and  Florence,  both  of  whom  Doc- 
tor Burnett  had  brought  in  his  carriage. 

They  were  gathered  in  a  little  group  around  the 
center-table,  looking  at  some  fine  photographs. 
Mr.  LeDru  remarked  that  he  had  some  magnificent 
views  of  Southern  scenery  which  he  would  like  to 
show  them.  He  obligingly  ran  up  to  his  room, 
and  brought  the  box  of  views  down  for  their 
entertainment. 

They  were  really  fine,  and  were  greatly  praised, 
Louis  giving  a  short  explanation  of  each  picture  as 
it  was  drawn  out. 

In  turning  them  over  a  small  card  photograph 
slipped  from  the  box  and  fell  to  the  floor. 

Vance  stooped  quickly,  picked  up  the  card  and 
restored  it,  blank  side  up,  to  its  owner.  Louis, 
with  a  careless  "  Thank  you,"  dropped  it  into  the 
box,  and  the  trifling  incident  was  hardly  noticed  by 
half  the  group. 

But  Florence  suddenly  felt  her  hand  grasped 
under  the  table,  and  pressed  hard.  Looking  up  in 
surprise,  as  it  was  instantly  released,  she  encoun- 
tered the  eager,  expressive  gaze  of  Vance's  clear 
eyes,  and  her  own  flashed  back  a  glance  of  intelli- 
gence. She  understood  him  and  knew  that  the 
clew  was  found. 

Marcia  saw  that  little   exchange  of  looks,   and 


THE   CLEW   FOUND.  89 

thought  she  understood  it,  not  dreaming  that  her 
interpretation  was  entirely  wrong. 

It  chanced,  that  as  they  were  leaving  she  heard 
Vance  say  in  a  low  tone  to  Florence: 

"  Florry,  I've  a  notion  to  steal  half  the  doctor's 
charge  and  take  you  home  myself,  I'm  so  anxious 
to  talk  to  you."  % 

"That  would  hardly  be  fair,"  returned  Florry. 
"  But  you  may  come  over  as  early  as  you  please  in 
the  morning. " 

"  Then  expect  me  at  a  dreadfully  early  hour, 'If 
said  Vance. 

"  All  right,  I  will,"  answered  Florence. 

Poor  Marcia  heard  every  word,  but  she  would 
not  even  allow  herself  one  sigh  —  no,  she  would 
only  try  harder  to  be  true  to  Louis,  who  was  so 
good  and  true  to  her! 

Florence  was  not  less  anxious  to  see  Vance  than 
he  was  now  to  see  her.  So,  when  he  rode  over  to 
Spring  Hill,  as  the  Edwards  estate  was  called,  early 
as  it  was,  he  found  her  waiting  for  him  in  the 
parlor  in  a  pretty  morning-gown  of  lilac  lawn. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come  early,"  she  said,  greet- 
ing him  with  a  cordial  smile.  "  Tell  me  at  once. 
I  feel  sure  you  have  made  a  discovery." 

"  I  have,  Florry.  I  am  on  the  right  track  now. 
You  saw  the  picture  which  fell  on  the  floor  last 
night?  " 

"  Not  clearly.  You  picked  it  up  so  quickly  that 
I  could  only  see  it  was  a  lady's  picture,  that  was 
all.  But  I  guessed  that  it  was  the  girl  we  wish  so 
much  to  find." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  Florry.  I  had  only  a 
glance  at  it  myself.  But  that  was  enough  to  show 
me  a  girl  with  long  black  curls,  the  very  girl  whose 
name  I  had  forgotten. " 

"  But  you  remember  it  now,  Vance?  " 

"  Yes;  the  instant  I  saw  the  picture  it  came  to 


9O  THE   CLEW    FOUND. 

me.  Her  name  was  Burke,  and  her  father  was  one 
of  the  college  faculty.  I  think  her  first  name  was 
Nettie,  or  Ettie,  I'm  not  sure  which,  as  I  had  no 
acquaintance  with  her  beyond  a  bow  in  the  street." 

"  And  she  :s  the  girl  connected  with  that  old 
story?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Was  she  good?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  she  was.  Whatever  ill  occurred 
was  of  his  working,  not  hers.  I  firmly  believe  her 
to  have  been  a  good,  pure  girl. " 

"  Well,  now,  tell  me  everything  you  remember 
concerning  her,"  said  Florry. 

"  It  is  not  as  much  as  I  wish  it  was,  even  after 
seeing  the  picture,"  returned  Vance.  "  Professor 
Burke  filled  an  honorable  chair  very  ably.  But  he 
lost  his  health,  and  finally  died  of  consumption. 
Though  so  fine  a  scholar,  he  was  a  poor  financier, 
and  when  he  died  his  widow  and  daughter  were 
left  with  very  little.  They  took  student  boarders 
to  support  themselves,  and  Louis  was  one  of  their 
boarders." 

"  It  seems  as  though  the  college  authorities  ought 
to  have  helped  them,  for  the  professor's  sake,"  re- 
marked Florence,  sympathizingly. 

"  Perhaps  they  did,  but  I  never  knew  of  it.  Mr. 
Louis  soon  grew  very  devoted  to  the  daughter  — 
that  is,  in  private.  They  were  ladies  of  good  birth 
and  high  culture.  Nettie  Burke  (I'll  call  her  that, 
anyway),  was  the  equal  of  Louis  LeDru  in  every 
way  except  wealth.  But  he  never  was  seen  with 
her  in  any  public  place." 

"  That  ought  to  have  shown  her  there  was  some- 
thing wrong,"  said  Florence. 

"  It  would  seem  so,  at  least." 

"  You  say  there  was  talk  of  a  mock  marriage?  " 

"  Yes,  a  great  deal  of  talk  at  one  time.  The 
better  part  of  the  college  fellows  turned  the  cold 


THE    CLEW   FOUND.  9! 

shoulder  to  LeDru  because  of  it,  indignant  that  a 
man  could  so  wrong  a  trusting  girl." 

"Well,  Vance,"  said  Florence,  calmly,"!  was 
not  there.  But  I  tell  you  there  never  was  any 
mock  marriage. " 

"  How  do  you  know,  Florry?  " 

"  Because  a  girl,  good  and  pure  as  you  say  she 
was,  never  would  suffer  herself  to  be  deceived  in 
that  manner." 

"  Not  if  she  knew  it,  certainly,  Florry. " 

"  Well,  you  mark  what  I  say  —  if  there  was  any 
marriage  at  all  in  this  case,  it  was  a  real  one.  And 
if  so,  and  she  still  lives  —  don't  you  see?  " 

"  Yes,  by  Heaven,  I  do  see!  "  cried  Vance,  start- 
ing up.  "  I  will  know,  too,  before  many  days!  " 

"  What  will  you  do  first?  "  asked  Florence. 

"  Make  a  trip  to  New  Haven,  and  trust  to  Provi- 
dence when  I  get  there. " 

"  How  will  you  explain  your  absence?  Of 
course,  LeDru  must  not  know  where  you  have 
gone." 

"  Nor  any  one,  except  yourself,  Florry.  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  do  without  you  at  this  juncture, 
my  dear  sister!  "  And  Vance  took  her  hand  in  a 
warm,  brotherly  clasp. 

Florence  had  not  schooled  her  heart  for  nothing. 
There  was  no  sadness  in  voice  or  smile  as  she 
answered: 

"  I  am  very  glad  if  I  can  be  of  any  help  or  com- 
fort to  you,  Vance.  Tell  me  your  plans,  will  you?" 

"  They  are  hardly  formed  yet.  But  I  shall  lose 
no  time.  Let's  see  —  this  is  Saturday — I  shall  go 
on  Monday,  I  think.  I  have  been  talking  of  a  trip 
to  Washington.  I  really  have  some  business  there 
connected  with  my  father's  estate,  and  received 
letters  this  week  concerning  it,  which  "will  serve  for 
an  excuse." 

"  Then  you  will  really  go  to  Washington?  " 


92  VANCE   MAKES   HIS   PLAN   KNOWN. 

"  Yes.  And  from  there  to  New  York,  then  to 
New  Haven,  and  Heaven  only  knows  where  else." 

"  But  how  can  I  help  you,  Vance?" 

"  I  shall  need  some  one  to  watch  affairs  at  home 
and  keep  me  informed  of  all  that  takes  place  here, 
and  whom  I  can  keep  posted  as  to  what  I  am  doing, 
and  give  notice  of  my  return,  if  it  should  be  neces- 
sary. You  can  do  this  for  me,  Florry,  if  you  will. " 

"  Indeed  I  will,  Vance.  I'm  only  sorry  it  is  so 
little." 

"  It  is  not  a  little,  Florry.  Everything  may 
depend  upon  my  knowing  the  position  of  things  at 
home." 

"  I  shall  keep  you  faithfully  posted,  Vance,"  said 
Florence. 

But  neither  of  them  could  foresee  just  how  much 
vould  hang  upon  Florry 's  faithfulness,  after  a  while. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

VANCE  MAKES   HIS    FLAX   KNOWN. 

"  Were  it  but 

To  make  sure  that  the  past  from  the  future  is  shut, 
It  were  worth  the  step  backward. " 

— Meredith. 

THE  family  at  Douglas  Hall  were  sitting  down  to 
dinner  when  Vance  came  in. 

"  Better  late  than  never,  my  boy,"  said  the  old 
Squire.  "  By  the  way,  you  seem  to  take  a  great 
interest  in  affairs  at  Spring  Hill,  lately. " 

"  There  is  a  fair  magnet  drawing  him  over  that 
way,"  put  in  LeDru,  laughingly. 

"  Never  mind,  Vance, "said  Aunt  Madeline,  tak- 
ing his  part.  "  Florence  is  a  nice  girl.  You  go  as 
often  as  you  please." 

"  Indeed,  I  intend  to,  Aunty!"  returned  Vance, 
as  he  took  both  his' place  and  the  cup  of  fragrant 


VANCE   MAKES    HIS   PLAN    KNOWN.  93 

coffee,  which  Milly,  the  colored  girl,  handed  to 
him. 

"  I  believe  you  people  think  I  visit  Spring  Hill 
every  time  I  ride  out,"  he  said,  good-naturedly. 
"'But  I  don't,  you  see,  though  I  did  go  there  this 
morning." 

Marcia  had  been  silent,  not  taking  any  part  in 
their  gay  badinage.  Now  she  asked:  "  Was  Florence 
well,  Vance?" 

"I  believe  she  was.  I  heard  no  complaint," 
returned  Vance.  "  Uncle,  please  send  me  a  bit  of 
that  chicken,"  giving  his  plate  to  Milly.  "This 
fresh  Autumn  air  gives  one  a  terrible  appetite. 
Has  the  mail  been  brought  out  from  town  this 
morning?" 

"  Yes,  Sam  brought  it,"  said  Marcia.  "  There 
were  no  letters  for  you.  But  one  of  Leslie's  men 
brought  over  the  wedding  cards  for  all  of  us.  You 
will  find  yours  on  the  bureau  in  your  room. " 

"  Ah!  Then  the  happy  day  is  fixed,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,  the  twelfth  of  this  month." 

"  It  will  be  a  grand  wedding,  no  doubt.  But  I 
hardly  think  I  shall  be  there,"  said  Vance,  seizing 
this  good  opportunity  of  springing  his  mine  upon 
them. 

"  Not  be  there:  "  cried  Marcia.  "  Oh,  Vance, 
Mag  would  be  mortally  offended. " 

"  And  Miss  Florence  will  need  her  cavalier,"  put 
in  Louis. 

"  You  must  certainly  go,  Vance,"  said  the  squire. 

"  I  certainly  should  go,  if  I  were  here,"  returned 
Vance.  "  But  if  nothing  prevents,  I  shall  be  sev- 
eral hundred  miles  further  north  by  that  time. " 

"  What!  Not  going  away?  "  asked  the  squire. 

"  Yes,  sir,  for  a  few  days. " 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul  boy,  this  is  short  notice, 
isn't  it?  " 


94  VANCE   MAKES   HIS   PLAN   KNOWN.  ; 

"  No,  uncle,  not  at  all.  You  know  I've  been 
talking  of  going  to  Washington  for  some  time." 

"  Why,  yes,  so  you  have.  It  is  to  Washington, 
then,  you  intend  to  go?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.'1 

"  But,  Vance,  you  must  wait  until  after  Maggie's 
wedding,  anyhow,"  said  Marcia. 

"  Business  matters  don't  wait  for  weddings,  my 
little  cousin,"  replied  Vance,  smiling  at  her. 

"  Is  the  business  important?  "  asked  Aunt  Made- 
line. 

"  Rather  important,  aunty.  I  received,  yester- 
day, a  letter  from  Mr.  Taylor,  my  agent  there, 
saying  that  there  were  some  little  matters  pertain- 
ing to  my  Washington  property,  which  should  be 
looked  after  at  once.  So  I  have  decided  to  go  on 
and  see  for  myself. " 

"  Can't  Mr.  Taylor  attend  to  it,  without  your 
having  to  go  so  far?  "  asked  Marcia. 

"  It  isn't  always  best,  my  dear  cousin,  to  leave 
such  matters  to  other  people.  Mr.  Taylor  is  thor- 
oughly trustworthy.  I  have  all  confidence  in  him; 
still  I  prefer  to  go  on  and  settle  affairs  for  my  own 
satisfaction.  Besides,  I  shall  enjoy  a  little  trip  this 
splendid  autumn  weather  exceedingly." 

"George!  so  you  will!"  cried  Mr.  LeDru. 
"  Wish  I  was  going  with  you  myself  !  If  you'll 
promise  to  get  back  in  time  for  the  wedding,  don't 
know  but  I'll  go,  too." 

Here  was  a  dilemma,  sure  enough.  Vance  was 
almost  tempted  to  smile,  as  he  answered,  "  I 
couldn't  promise  that.  I  intend  to  come  as  soon  as 
I  conclude  my^business,  but  I  don't  know,  until  I 
get  there,  how  long  that  will  take. "  He  did  not 
say  he  would  be  glad  of  Mr.  LeDru's  company, 
but  no  one  seemed  to  notice  the  omission. 

"  When  will  you  go?"  asked  Squire  Douglas. 

"  Next  Monday,  if  possible." 


VANCE   MAKES   HIS   PLAN   KNOWN.  95 

"  Well,  this  is  only  the  second;  there  are  ten  days 
until  Mag's  wedding.  I  should  think  a  great  deal 
of  business  could  be  done  in  that  time,"  said 
Marcia. 

"  So  there  could,  Marcia.  But  you  know  some- 
times even  simple  business  operations  are  very 
slow." 

The  Squire  chanced  just  then  to  notice  how  grave 
Vance's  fine  face  had  become,  and  he  said,  kindly, 
"  I  hope  you  don't  anticipate  trouble  or  possible 
loss  of  your  property,  Vance?  " 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  no!  Mr.  Taylor  assures  me  that 
the  titles  are  all  correct.  There  will  be  no  trouble 
at  all,  most  likely  considerable  gain  in  value." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,  my  boy!  Glad  to  hear  it!  By 
the  way,  suppose  I  give  you  a  commission  to  exe- 
cute in  Washington  for  me?  " 

"  I  shall  take  pleasure  in  doing  anything  you 
desire,  Uncle, " 

"  All  right;  come  to  the  library  in  an  hour  or  so 
and  we'll  arrange  it. " 

"  I  can  go  now,  Uncle." 

"  But  I  can't.  I  must  go  and  give  old  'Killus 
some  orders  for  the  field  hands  first.  Perhaps 
you'll  go  out  with  me?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  certainly. " 

Vance  got  his  hat  and  went  with  the  old  Squire 
in  search  of  Achilles,  the  foreman  of  the  field 
negroes.  He  was  Aunt  Nerve's  "  ole  man,"  and 
his  patrician  name  had  been  converted  by  his 
fellows  into  "  'Killus,"  and  passed  as  such  into  gen- 
eral household  use. 

Miss  Madeline  remained  in  the  dining-room  to 
give  some  directions  to  her  maids. 

Louis  and  Marcia  went  out  on  the  verandah. 

"  It  is  too  lovely  to  stay  in-doors,"  said  Louis. 
"  Suppose  we  ride  over  to  Leslie's  and  make  a 
call?" 


96  VANCE   MAKES   HIS   PLAN   KNOWN. 

"Agreed!"  said  Marcia.  "I'm  dying  to  see 
Maggie's  wedding-dress,  anyway.  It  only  came 
home  last  night. " 

"  I  had  rather  see  yours,"  said  Louis,  with  a 
thrilling  glance,  which  now  scarcely  brought  the 
blood  to  Marcia's  cheek.  She  was  not  half  so 
happy  in  her  engagement  as  she  had  hoped  to  be. 

"  I  will  go  and  get  ready,"  she  said,  anxious  to 
escape  as  she  always  was  when  Louis  tried  love- 
making.  She  had  promised  to  marry  him,  she 
meant  to  keep  her  word,  and  be  a  good,  faithful 
wife.  But  she  could  not  bear  to  let  him  make  love 
to  her,  and  she  vaguely  wondered  if  all  girls  felt  so 
when  they  were  engaged.  Maggie  didn't,  she  was 
sure.  But  then  Maggie  almost  worshipped  Lionel, 
while  she  —  well,  perhaps  she  might  come  to  love 
Louis  as  much — after  awhile, 

The  ride  to  Leslie's  was  very  pleasant,  and  the 
welcome  they  met  as  hearty  as  ever. 

Marcia  went  up-stairs  with  Maggie  to  see  the 
wedding  dress,  just  home  from  Louisville.  Of 
course  Myra  had  to  remain  in  the  parlor  with  Mr. 
LeDru  while  they  were  gone  —  it  would  not  be  po- 
lite to  leave  him  alone. 

The  wedding-robe  was  lying  in  state  upon  the 
bed  in  a  spare  chamber,  a  lovely  creation  of  pearl- 
white  silk  and  frosty  lace,  the  wreath  of  orange 
blossoms  in  a  white  box  close  by,  with  the  long, 
white  gloves  and  fan. 

The  dress  was  really  beautiful,  and  Marcia  could 
hardly  express  her  admiration. 

"  Yes,  it  is  pretty  enough,"  said  Maggie.  "  But 
I  wish  I  could  wear  red.  I  shall  look  like  a  black 
ghost,  if  there  is  such  a  thing,  in  all  that  moon- 
shiny  white  stuff!  Red  and  black  would  suit  me 
much  better." 

"  Red  and  black  would  be  a  very  odd  bridal 
dress,"  said  Marcia.  "  Though  it  would  become 


VANCE   MAKES   HIS   PVAN   KNOWN.  97 

you  better  than  white,  you  bright  little  brunette! 
It  is  a  pity  all  young  brides  are  doomed  to  wear 
white,  whether  they  look  well  in  it  or  not. " 

"  You  will  be  lovely  in  it!  "  cried  Maggie.  "  Do 
you  know  I  havn't  got  over  my  disappointment  in 
not  having  the  double  wedding  yet.  I  do  think 
you  and  Louis  might  be  married  with  us." 

"  But  I'm  not  ready,  and  won't  be  for  two  months 
yet,"  said  Marcia,  blushing  deeply. 

"  Well,  you  might  be  bridesmaid,  anyhow!  " 

"  No,  Maggie,  dear,  you  know  I  am  too  busy, 
and  as  I  am  so  soon  to  be  a  bride  myself,  it  would 
be  very  embarrassing.  Please  put  somebody  else 
in  my  place." 

"  Shan't!"  responded  Maggie,  promptly.  "  Since 
you  refuse,  I  will  have  no  one  but  My ra  and  Doctor 
Burnett.  Who  are  to  be  your  bridesmaids,  Marcia?" 

"  I  haven't  asked  them,  yet,  but  I  mean  to  ask 
Myra  and  —  Florence,"  said  Marcia,  hesitating  an 
instant  over  the  last  name.  "  Why,  Mag,  look  at 
Myra!  She  is  ill!  "  in  tones  of  sudden  alarm. 

"  Myra,  child,  what  in  the  world  ails  you?"  cried 
Maggie,  turning  suddenly  to  her  sister. 

Myra  had  only  just  come  up  from  the  parlor,  and 
entered  the  chamber  where  the  girls  were.  She 
was  deathly  white,  and  seemed  panting  for  breath, 
but  she  tried  to  smile,  as  she  sank  into  a  chair,  and 
answered, 

"  Nothing  at  all  to  be  frightened  over.  I've  been 
threatened  with  sick  headache  all  day,  and  the  heat 
of  the  parlor  made  me  feel  faint,  so  I  came  up- 
stairs. " 

*  Faint!  I  should  think  so!"  cried  Maggie. 
"  You're  as  white  as  a  rag!  Come  right  into  our 
room  and  lie  down,  and  I'll  get  you  the  camphor." 

"  No,  no!  I  don't  want  to  lie  down,  I  shall  be 
better  directly,  remonstrated  Myra. 

"  Indeed  you  had  better  lie  down,"  said  Marcia, 


9*  VANCE   MAKES   HIS   PL  AX    KNOWN. 

kindly.  "  We'll  excuse  you  to  Louis,  and  yo-  can 
rest  awhile." 

"  That's  what  she's  going  to  do,"  said  Maggie, 
leading  the  way  to  their  own  room,  and  arranging 
the  pillows  for  her  sister.  "  Come,  Myra,  lie  right 
down  here!  " 

"  I  believe  I  will,  for  a  few  minutes,"  said  Myra, 
throwing  herself  upon  the  bed.  "  But  I  won't  have 
the  camphor,  Mag!  You  needn't  get  it.  A  little 
rest  is  all  I  want.  Go  back  to  the  parlor,  both  of 
you,  and  I'll  be  all  right  presently." 

"  Shan't  I  send  Linaup  to  stay  with  you?  "  asked 
Maggie. 

"  No,  No!  "  answered  Myra,  quickly.  "  Perhaps 
I  can  go  to  sleep,  but  I  couldn't  if  any  one  was  in 
the  room." 

"  Then  I  won't  send  her. " 

Maggie  contented  herself  with  dropping  a  curtain 
to  darken  the  room,  and  placing  a  bottle  of  fragrant 
cologne  beside  the  bed.  Then  she  went  down- 
stairs with  Marcia,  where  Mr.  Louis,  calm  and 
smiling,  waited  for  them,  and  kindly  hoped  Miss 
Myra  was  not  seriously  indisposed! 

While  up-stairs  poor  Myra  hid  her  throbbing 
head  in  the  soft  pillows,  closed  her  blue  eyes 
wearily,  and  wished  that  they  might  stay  closed  for- 
ever. Alas,  poor  Myra! 

The  commission  which  Squire  Douglas  wished 
Vance  to  execute  in  Washington  was  the  purchase 
of  a  set  of  diamonds  for  a  wedding  gift  to  Marcia. 

He  intended  to  buy  them  in  Louisville,  but  it  was 
probable  finer  ones  could  be  obtained  in  Washing- 
ton. The  good  Squire  even  instructed  Vance  if  he 
could  not  get  what  he  wanted  in  Washington,  to  go 
on  to  New  York  city,  giving  him  two  thousand 
dollars  in  a  New  York  draft  to  cover  the  expenses. 

Vance  hailed  this  as  a  special  stroke  of  good  luck, 
because  it  would  enable  him  to  write  back  home 


VANCE   MAKES  HIS  PLAN   KNOWN.  99 

that  he  had  gone  on  to  New  York  on  business  for 
his  uncle,  and  the  Squire  would  confirm  what  he 
said,  without  arousing  any  suspicion  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Louis. 

Vance  made  all  arrangements  to  start  on  Mon- 
day. Sunday  evening  he  went  over  for  a  last  call 
on  his  faithful  friend  Florence. 

Marcia,  from  an  upper  window,  saw  him  ride 
away,  and  murmured:  "  He  couldn't  even  spend 
the  last  evening  at  home!  " 

But  the  next  moment  she  was  rebuking  herself 
for  her  selfishness,  saying:  "  Of  course,  he  would 
naturally  want  to  be  with  her."  And  she  did  not 
dream  that  it  was  for  her  sake  Vance  was  taking  all 
this  trouble. 

"  Of  course,  they  think  at  home  that  I  will  get 
back  long  before  Marcia's  wedding.  But  you  know 
that  my  stay  depends  on  what  I  learn  there.  If 
anything  should  prevent  my  return  soon,  I  will 
write  you  word  what  to  do." 

"  Very  well,  Vance.  In  the  meantime,  I  repeat 
that  you  need  not  be  uneasy  about  affairs  at  home. 
I  will  keep  you  posted,  even  in  regard  to  trifles. " 

"  Do  so,  dear  Florry.  You  see,  a  mere  trifle  — 
the  dropping  of  a  card  photograph  —  has  led  to 
this  journey,  and  whatever  it  may  result  in." 

"  So  it  did,  Vance." 

"  Well,  I  must  say  good-by  now.  I  will  write  as 
soon  as  I  have  anything  to  tell."  He  took  her 
hands  in  a  warm,  strong  clasp. 

"  Good-by,  Vance.  Take  good  care  of  yourself." 

"  I  will.  Do  you  the  same,  Florry.  God  bless 
you,  dear,  good  girl,  for  the  sister  that  you  are  to 
me.  Take  a  brother's  kiss  before  I  go." 

He  bowed  his  tall  head  and  left  a  kiss  on  Florry's 
lips.  But  her  heart  scarcely  beat  faster,  for  she  had 
not  schooled  herself  in  vain.  She  could  honestly 
say  "  brother  "  to  Vance  Douglas  now. 


100  SAM   RELIEVES   HIS   MIND. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

SAM    RELIEVES   HIS   MIND. 

"  In  an  hour  from  this 
He  gave  rein  to  his  steed  and  his  mind, 
And  pursued  the  reflections  his  journey  gave  rise  to." 

Meredith. 

MONDAY  morning  everybody  was  early  astir  at 
the  old  Hall. 

Miss  Madeline  had  ordered  a  very  early  break- 
fast, so  that  Vance  might  be  off  in  time  to  catch 
the  first  train  at  Frankfort,  and  make  connections 
at  Lexington  Junction  for  Cincinnati. 

"  Be  sure  you  are  back  in  time!"  whispered 
Marcia,  as  he  bade  her  good-bye. 

"  I  shall  surely  be  here  for  that!  "  returned  Vance, 
grimly,  holding  her  close  for  one  short  instant. 
She  did  not  say  in  time  for  what,  but  he  well  under- 
stood her  Yes,  he  would  return  in  time  for  her 
wedding,  even  though  he  came  as  an  unbidden 
guest. 

Sam  drove  Vance  to  town  in  the  light  wagon,  so 
as  to  take  his  large  valise  also. 

After  they  were  fairly  upon  the  road,  Sam  gave 
vent  to  several  tremendous  sighs,  took  off  his  old 
hat,  scratched  his  head  vigorously,  hitched  at  his 
suspenders,  where  a  rusty  nail  did  duty  as  a  button, 
and  was  so  altogether  fidgety  that  Vance's  attention 
was  attracted,  and  he  asked,  "Sam,  what's  the 
matter  with  you?  " 

Sam  gave  his  suspenders  another  hitch,  and  grum- 
bled out,  "  Got  sum'fin'  on  my  min',  Marse  Vance, 
dat's  what!  " 

"  Anything  serious,  Sam?  " 

"  Dun'no',  sah!  Yis,  sah,  I  'low  it  am,  Marse 
Vance!  " 

"  Well,  Sam,  I  see  you  want  to  tell  me.  Out 
with  it!  "  said  Vance,  encouragingly.  *'  Have  you 


SAM   RELIEVES   HIS   MIND.  IOI 

been  getting  into  a  scrape  lately?  "  and  he  gave 
Sam  a  quizzical  look. 

"  No,  Marse  Vance,  I  ha'n't.  I  done  try  to  be-, 
habe  myse'f  de  bes'  I  kin.  '  Tain't  'long  o'  my 
meanness!  But  I  gwine  tell  you,  'kase  I  'low  some- 
body oughter  know." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Sam?  "  asked  Vance,  with 
an  uneasy  feeling,  as  he  knew  Sam  was  no  gossip. 

"  It's  talkin'  'bout  my  betters,  I  s'pose,"  said 
Sam,  "  but  I  mean  Marse  LeDru,  dat's  what  I 


mean 


Vance  felt  the  blood  bound  hot  in  his  veins. 

"  Sam!  "  he  said,  sternly,  "  if  you  know  anything 
of  Louis  LeDru's  actions,  tell  me  at  once!  " 

"  Jes'  what  I  'gwine  to  do,  Marse  Vance.  Is  it 
de  pos'tiv'  trufe  dat  Marse  LeDru  an'  Miss  Marshy 
'gwine  to  git  married?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  is,  Sam." 

"  Sorry  for  it,  Marse  Vance!  I'se  on'y  pore, 
black  niggah,  an'  he  bery  fine  gemman,  but  he 
hain't  good  'nuff  for  Miss  Marshy!  " 

"  But  surely,  Sam,  that  isn't  all  you  want  to  tell 
me?"  said  Vance,  while  his  owii  heart  echoed 
"  Amen!"  to  Sam's  words. 

"  No,  'tain't  Marse  Vance!  Dere's  a  reason  fo' 
dat  sayin'  ob  mine." 

"  Well,  Sam,  give  me  your  reason." 

"  Marse  Vance,"  began  Sam,  solemnly,  "  hab 
you  seed  anything  wrong  wid  Miss  Myry  Leslie, 
lately?  " 

"  No,  I  haven't.  What  do  you  mean,  boy?  I 
thought  you  were  talking  about  Mr.  LeDru." 

"  Yis,  sah,  darn  him!  I  ax  pardon  for  cussin', 
Marse  Vance,  but  his  debbilment  is  'nufif  to  make  a 
saint  swar!  Tisso!" 

Vance  turned  cold  all  over. 

"  Sam!  Do  you  understand  what  you  are  talking 
about?  "  he  asked  sternly. 


IO2  SAM    RELIEVES   HIS    MIND. 

"  Yis,  sah,  Tore  my  hebbenly  Marster,  I  does!  " 
said  Sam,  stoutly. 

"  Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,  make  a  clean  breast  of 
it,  quick!"  almost  groaned  Vance. 

"  Well,  sah,  I  will!"  said  Sam.  "  De  old  song 
says,  '  nebber  court  but  one/  but  Marse  LeDru,  he 
done  court  two,  bofe  to  onc't — Miss  Marshy  an' 
Miss  Myry. " 

"  Sam!  are  you  lying?  "  cried  Vance,  looking 
severely  at  Sam. 

But  Sam  returned  a  gaze  of  injured  innocence. 

Marse  Vance,  did  you  ebber  know  me  to  lie?  " 

"  No,  Sam.      But  this  is  a  serious  matter." 

"  So  'tis,  Marse  Vance,  or  I'd  nebber  made  bold 
to  tell  ye.  But  it's  gospel  trufe.  I  hab  seed — so 
hab  Liny  Leslie. " 

"  Well,  then,  Sam,  begin  at  the  very  first  and  tell 
me  everything  you  know." 

"  Jes'  what  I'se  goin'  to  do,"  said  Sam.  "  De 
fust  time  I  'spicioned  anyting  was  to  de  Leslie's 
pah'ty.  You  'member  Miss  Myry  couldn't  be  foun' 
fur  awhile?  " 

"  Yes,  she  was  upstairs,  mending  a  torn  dress. " 

"  Marse  Vance,  as  I  hopes  to  go  to  Hebben,  she 
was  in  de  gah'den  wid  Louis  LeDru.  Me  and 
Liny  seed  'em  in  de  rose  arbor.  I  says  to  Liny 
dat  I  didn't  like  de  looks  of  dat.  Den  Liny,  she 
says  Marse  Louis  gib  her  a  note  fo'  Miss  Myry, 
when  he  come  in,  an'  she  slip  it  up  to  her,  an'  dat 
he  sen'  her  notes  and  steal  walks  wid  her  mos' 
ebery  day." 

"  Do  you  believe  Lina  was  telling  the  truth, 
Sam,"  asked  Vance. 

"  Yes,  sah,  I  knows  she  was.  Dat  gal  don't  lie 
fur  nobody!  I  hab  seed  'em,  wid  my  own  eyes, 
too,  walkin'  in  de  woods  when  I  was  fishing  at  de 
ribber.  I'll  Tess  up,  now,  dat  I  didn't  like  it  an' so 
I  watched  'em  a  little.  I'se  seed  him  huggin'  an' 


SAM    RELIEVES    HIS    MIND.  103 

kissin'  her  like  mad,  a  dozen  times.     An'  dat  ain't 
de  wu'st,  Marse  Vance. " 

"  Then,  for  God's  sake,  tell  the  worst,  quickly, 
Sam,"  said  Vance,  deeply  agitated. 

"  Liny,  she's  skeer'd  to  deth  ober  it,  an'  she 
dassn't  tell  nobody  but  me.  But  she  tole  me  dat 
sense  de  word  was  out  dat  Marse  Louis  an'  Miss 
Marshy  goin'  to  be  married,  Miss  Myry  done  bin 
'nudder  gal.  She  jes'  a  pinin'  herself  away.  She 
don'  eat  nuffin'  an'  she  don'  sleep  none,  an'  she 
don'  eben  hab  her  room  wid  Miss  Mag  any  mo'. 
She  say  she  got  to  git  used  to  doin'  widout  her,  an' 
she  hab  'nudder  room,  all  to  herse'f.  Ole  Mis' 
Leslie,  she  won't  let  her  stay  all  alone,  when  she 
ain't  well,  so  Liny,  she  sleeps  on  a  cot  in  dat  room. 
An'  she  say  Miss  Myry  jes'  lays  awake  sobbin'  an' 
moanin'  all  night.  She's  as  libely  as  ennybody  in 
de  daytime,  when  de  res'  ob  de  folks  is  roun'.  But 
when  night  comes  she's  a  grievin'  an'  a  cryin'  all 
night.  She  done  tole  Liny  not  to  darst  to  tell 
nobody,  an'  so  Liny,  she  dassn't  tell  nobody  but 
me.  I  hab  to  promise  her  to  keep  still,  but  I  jes' 
'elude  I  better  tell  you,  an'  so  I  did. " 

"  You  have  done  perfectly  right,  Sam.  I  com- 
mend you  for  it,  and  when  I  come  home  I  won't 
forget  to  bring  you  something  nice." 

"  Tanky,  Marse  Vance!  " 

"  You  haven't  told  anyone  else,  Sam?  " 

"  No,  sah,  neydcr  hab  Liny.  We  knows  better 
dan  to  be  blabbin'  'bout  de  white  folkses." 

Vance  sat  a  moment  in  deep  thought.  He  was 
strongly  inclined  to  turn  the  wagon,  go  back  and 
reveal  to  his  uncle  and  Mr.  Leslie  what  he  had 
heard  —  and  believed. 

But  what  could  it  avail?  He  had  only  the  testi- 
mony of  two  black  servants  against  a  man  who  was 
a  match  for  a  dozen  sharp  white  ones.  Besides,  if 
he  stopped  to  straighten  this  tangle,  he  would  lose 


104  SAM    RELIEVES    HIS    MIND. 

sight  of  the  greater  one  which  was  taking  him  away. 
Then,  too,  Sam  and  Lina  in  their  earnestness  might 
greatly  have  exaggerated  matters.  He  decided  to 
continue  his  journey,  only  adding  this  one  more 
item  to  the  score  he  would  settle  with  Louis  LeDru 
in  the  future. 

"  It's  all  right,  Sam,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's 
reflection.  "  You  have  done  quite  right,  both  in 
telling  me  and  keeping  you  own  council  otherwise. 
Don't  speak  of  it  now,  and  caution  Lina  from  me 
not  to  speak  of  it,  either,  unless  —  now  mind,  Sam, 
—  unless  something  serious  turns  up  before  I  come 
home.  In  that  ease,  do  you  go  straight  to  my 
uncle  and  Mr.  Leslie  and  tell  them  both  all  you 
know.  You  understand?  " 

"  Yes,  sah!     Fse  do  it,  Marse  Vance. " 

"  Very  well.  Unless  something  detains  me  I 
shall  get  back  in  about  two  weeks.  And,  Sam  — 
I'm  going  to  trust  you  with  this  much  —  my  jour- 
ney closely  concerns  Mr.  LeDru.  I  hope  to  come 
home  prepared  to  settle  this  matter  thoroughly. 
But  for  your  life  don't  let  a  hint  of  this  escape  you ! " 

"  No,  sah.  Fse  shut  my.  mouf  up  tighter'n  a 
clam  shell!" 

"  See  that  you  do.  Unless  I  fail  in  my  object, 
Mr.  LeDru  will  not  marry  either  my  cousin  or  Myra 
Leslie. " 

"  Fore  de  Lawd,  den,  Marse  Vance,  I  hopes  you 
won't  fail!  'Deed  does  I!"  ejaculated  Sam,  fer- 
vently. 

At  that  moment  a  long  whistle  broke  upon  the 
air. 

"  Hello,  Sam!  "  cried  Vance,"  there's  the  whistle 
at  the  lower  bridge!  We've  no  time  to  spare,  if  I 
don't  lose  the  train !  " 

Sam  whipped  up  his  horses,  and  the  train  moved 
into  the  depot  just  as  he  stopped  at  the  platform. 
Vance  jumped  out  of  the  wagon,  snatched  his  valise, 


NORTHWARD   BOUND.  '  105 

threw  Sam  a  half-dollar  with  which  to  treat  himself, 
hurried  into  the  office,  and  had  barely  time  to  pur- 
chase his  ticket  and  spring  on  board  before  the 
train  swept  away. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

NORTHWARD  BOUND. 

"  Hope  its  consolation  lend 
That  his  mission  soon  shall  end. " 

— Clark. 

THE  ride  to  Lexington  Junction  was  a  short  one. 
Vance  was  so  agitated  by  what  he  had  just  heard, 
that  he  scarcely  cast  a  glance  at  the  beautiful  Ken- 
tucky hills  over  which  he  was  passing,  though 
decked  in  the  gorgeous  robes  of  russet,  purple  and 
gold  which  they  were  just  donning,  they  were  well 
worth  more  than  a  glance. 

At  the  Junction  he  changed  cars  for  Cincinnati. 
By  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  he  stepped  from  the 
car  in  the  long  dark  depot  of  the  Queen  City. 

A  bewildering  number  of  trains  were  standing 
on  a  spider-web  of  tracks,  puffing  and  hissing  for 
the  start,  like  a  legion  of  huge,  couchant  monsters, 
gathering  their  forces  for  a  spring  from  their  under- 
ground den. 

"  Let's  see;  which  is  the  Short  Line  Route,  I 
wonder?"  said  Vance,  glancing  over  the  wilderness 
of  trains. 

A  porter  who  was  wheeling  a  mountain  of  trunks 
up  the  platform,  overheard  his  remark  and  volun- 
teered the  desired  information. 

"  Second  train  to  de  right,  sah!  Fro'  to  Wash- 
in'ton  widout  change,  sah!  " 

"  Thanks!  all  right!  "  returned  Vance. 

He  hastened  to  the  train,  found  a  comfortable 
seat,  disposed  his  valise  under  his  head  for  a  pillow, 


JO6  NORTHWARD   BOUND. 

and  was  soon  enjoying  a  cozy  nap  by  way  of  com- 
pensation for  his  early  rising. 

It  was  growing  dusk  when  the  cars  finally 
stopped  in  the  Union  Station  at  Washington  City. 

Vance  took  a  cab  to  the  National  Hotel,  where 
he  ate  a  hearty  supper,  and,  being  very  weary  with 
riding  so  long,  went  early  to  bed.  He  was  quite 
impatient  at  even  the  few  hours  delay  which  he 
could  not  well  avoid,  having  told  them  at  home 
that  Washington  was  his  destination. 

Resolving  to  make  it  as  short  as  possible,  he 
called  upon  his  agent  immediately  after  breakfast 
next  morning.  After  a  few  moments' consultation, 
he  gave  Mr.  Taylor  instructions  regarding  his  city 
property,  and  in  one  hour  concluded  the  business 
which  could  have  been  done  equally  as  well  by 
letter,  had  he  chosen  to  do  it  that  way. 

Without  waiting  to  see  one  of  the  interesting 
sights  of  Washington,  Vance  took  the  noon  train 
for  Philadelphia,  and  was  soon  steaming  over  the 
beautiful,  mountainous  hills  connecting  Maryland 
and  Pennsylvania. 

In  Philadelphia  he  only  paused  long  enough  to 
eat  a  good  dinner,  then  rode  over  to  the  ferry  at 
the  foot  of  Market  street,  crossed  to  Camden  and 
boarded  the  train  for  New  York  city. 

But  he  did  not  stop  in  New  York  at  present.  It 
would  be  time  enough  to  buy  the  diamonds  on  his 
way  home,  so  he  resolved  not  to  lose  one  day  from 
his  real  object. 

A  few  hours'  journey  from  New  York  and  he 
stood  once  more  in  the  grand  old  "  City  of  Elms," 
where  his  happy,  careless  college  life  had  been 
passed,  and  around  which  still  lingered  so  many 
pleasant  and  a  few  painful  memories. 

He  went  at  once  to  a  hotel  where  he  had  often 
stopped  before,  and  called  for  a  room.  And  now 
he  was  sadly  at  a  loss  how  to  take  the  next  step. 


NORTHWARD   BOUND.  IO/ 

On  his  journey,  ne  nad  pondered  much  on  what 
Sam  had  revealed.  Since  he  came  to  think  of  it, 
he  could  see  that  there  was  indeed  a  strange  change 
in  Myra  —  that  she  had  grown  thin,  pale  and  sad 
before  their  very  eyes;  yet  no  one  had  dreamed  of 
connecting  Mr.  Louis  LeDru  with  the  facts. 

It  is  true  Maggie's   approaching  marriage  might 
explain  part  of  it — the  sisters  were  tenderly  at- 
tached to  each  other,  and  had  never  in  their  lives 
been  separated.     Myra  would  naturally  be  deeply- 
grieved  at  losing  Maggie's  loving  companionship. 

But  then  the  stolen  walks,  the  hidden  letters,  the 
lies  told  —  how  could  they  be  accounted  for? 

Vance  sat  down  and  wrote  the  whole  story  to  his 
faithful  friend,  Florry,  bidding  her  keep  it  until  he 
came,  or  reveal  it  now,  as  circumstances  seemed  to 
direct.  He  went  out  and  posted  his  letter,  and 
then  began  seriously  to  look  about  him. 

First  he  would  hunt  up  some  of  his  old  class- 
mates. None  of  them  were  likely  to  be  still  in  col- 
lege, but  several  were  residents  of  New  Haven,  and 
might  be  able  to  assist  him. 

In  passing  a  fine  building  on  Third  street,  he 
saw,  upon  a  sign,  a  familiar  name  — 

"  W.    H.    HERBERT, 

"  Attorney  and  Councilor-at-Law" 

"  The  very  man!  "  thought  Vance  "  If  I  remem- 
ber aright,  Billy  Herbert  boarded  at  Burke's  with 
Louis.  What  a  lucky  chance,  the  very  first  thing!" 

No,  Vance,  not  chance.  But  a  kind  Providence, 
directing  the  steps  which  human  wisdom  failed  to 
guide. 

Vance  called  at  Mr.  Herbert's  office.  The  lawyer 
recognized  him  at  once,  and  gave  him  a  cordial 
welcome. 

"  I  declare,  Douglas,"  said  he,  "  I  never  thought 
of  seeing  you  again!  '" 


IO8  NORTHWARD   BOUJSD. 

"  I  had  no  idea  of  being  here,  a  few  days  ago," 
said  Vance.  "  But  business  brought  me  east,  and 
I  had  a  desire,  being  so  near,  to  visit  the  old  camp- 
ing ground." 

"Just  right!"  said  Mr.  Herbert.  "There  is 
nothing  gives  me  more  pleasure  than  to  meet  my 
old  class  fellows.  See  here,  Douglas,  you  must 
make  my  house  your  home  while  you  stay.  We 
have  plenty  of  room,  and  my  wife  will  be  delighted. 
Tell  me  where  you  stop  and  I'll  have  your  traps 
sent  round  at  once." 

"  Thank  you,  Herbert,  thank  you !  I  would  accept 
your  invitation  with  pleasure,  but  as  I  only  expect 
to  remain  in  the  city  a  few  hours,  it  would  hardly 
be  worth  while,"  said  Vance. 

"Nonsense!"  cried  Herbert.  "You  ought  to 
stay  a  week,  at  least!  " 

"  I  wish  I  could.  But  I  must  visit  several  other 
points,  and  return  to  Kentucky  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble." 

"  Sorry  to  hear  it.  You  can  go  home  to  dinner 
with  me,  anyway,  and  have  a  chat  over  old  times?" 

"  I  should  be  delighted  to  do  that,  certainly." 

"  All  right,  I'm  going  up  in  just  about  one  half 
hour.  If  you  will  amuse  yourself  in  the  office  while 
I  attend  to  a  little  matter  of  business,  I'll  go  round 
with  you." 

"  Certainly.  Don't  let  me  interrupt  you  in  the 
least,"  said  Vance. 

He  picked  up  a  paper  and  pretended  to  read,  but 
his  thoughts  were  not  with  his  eyes,  upon  the  paper. 
They  were  far  away,  in  the  "  old  Kentucky  home," 
with  the  loved  ones  there. 

When  Mr.  Herbert  was  ready,  Vance  went  with 
him  to  his  handsome  home,  and  was  presented  to 
his  wife.  Mrs.  Herbert  was  a  New  Haven  girl, 
and  Vance  had  known  her  slightly  in  his  college 
days. 


NORTHWARD   BOUND.  1 09 

She  echoed  her  husband's  welcome,  and  proved 
herself  a  very  entertaining  hostess. 

After  the  excellent  dinner,  they  naturally  fell  into 
a  chat  over  old  times.  Vance  resolved  to  make 
the  most  of  his  opportunity. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said,  carelessly,  "  what  became 
of  that  dashing  young  Charleston  fellow  —  LeDru, 
I  think  his  name  was." 

"  Havn't  heard  of  him  since  he  left,"  answered 
Mr.  Herbert. 

"  I  shouldn't  think  you  would  want  to,"  remarked 
his  wife,  a  sparkle  in  her  pretty,  blue  eyes  which 
did  not  escape  Vance. 

"  Don't, "  was  the  reply.  "  He  wasn't  my  style 
of  man." 

"Nor  mine,"  responded  Vance.  "But  I  re- 
called him  with  the  rest." 

"  Mollie,  here,  has  no  mercy  on  him,"  said  Mr. 
Herbert,  laughingly.  "  He  was  a  handsome  fel- 
low, but  none  of  us  thought  he  would  turn  out  the 
cold-booded  villain  he  did.  " 

"  Ah,  how  was  that?  I  don't  believe  I  knew," 
said  Vance,  concealing  his  deep  anxiety. 

"  It  was  public  talk  ;  but  most  of  it,  I  think, 
came  out  after  you  left.  I'm  not  well  versed  as  to 
particulars  myself.  Do  you  remember  Professor 
Burke?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  was  here  when  he  died." 

"  Did  you  know  his  widow  and  daughter?  " 

"  I  had  a  very  slight  acquaintance,  that  was  all. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  they  were  left  destitute, 
and  had  to  take  boarde'rs?  " 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  boarded  there  for  a  while— so  did 
Louis  LeDru."  . 

"  I  recollect  that,"  said  Vance,  exerting  all  his 
self-control,  now  the  crisis  was  so  near.  "  And 
now  I  recall  it,  wasn't  there  a  great  deal  of  gossip 


TIO  NORTHWARD    BOUND. 

about  Miss  Burke  and  Louis,  at  one  time?  Some 
love  affair,  wasn't  it?" 

"  It  was  a  great  deal  more  than  a  *  love  affair,'" 
said  Mrs.  Herbert,  with  firm  emphasis. 

"  Mollie  will  always  insist  upon  that  point!"  re- 
marked Mr.  Herbert,  laughingly. 

"  Yes,  I  will!"  said  Mrs.  Herbert.  "  Louis  Le- 
Dru  was  villain  enough,  no  doubt,  but  I  don't 
believe  he  went  so  far  as  to  deceive  Nettie  Burke 
by  a  false  marriage." 

"Why,  you  interest  me!"  cried  Vance.  "Let's 
have  the  particulars,  please." 

"  There  is  not  much  to  tell,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert. 
"  They  were  very  intimate,  so  much  that  there 
was  a  great  deal  of  gossip  about  them,  and  every 
one  said  he  ought  to  marry  her.  She  declared 
they  were  married,  but  LeDru,  when  appealed  to, 
turned  it  off  with  a  laugh,  and  said,  if  they  were,  it 
was  nothing  binding.  From  that  the  story  grew 
among  the  students  that  he  had  deceived  the  girl 
with  a  mock  marriage.  The  boys  were  very  indig- 
nant about  it." 

"  So  much  I  remember  to  have  heard  before," 
remarked  Vance.  "  About  the  time  I  left,  I 
think. " 

"  LeDru  went  about  the  same  time,"  continued 
Mrs.  Herbert.  "  Partly  on  that  account,  no  doubt, 
for  if  the  story  had  reached  the  faculty,  he  would 
have  been  summarily  dismissed.  After  he  left,  the 
gossip  subsided,  and  no  one  saw  or  heard  of  Nettie, 
much,  until  her  child  was  born." 

"  Good  God!  was  he  really  such  a  villain  as 
that?"  cried  Vance,  his  whole  soul  stirred. 

"  Just  such  a  villain,"  said  Mrs.  Herbert.  "Of 
course  there  was  a  great  sensation,  then.  Nettie 
declared  that  she  was  honestly  married  to  Louis, 
and  that  he  had  the  certificate  of  the  marriage. 
She  insisted  that  they  were  married  by  a  minister 


NORTHWARD   BOUND.  Ill 

in  Hartford,  but  she  did  not  even  know  his  name. 
Many  utterly  disbelieved  her  story,  but  the  gener- 
ality of  people  thought  she  had  been  deceived  by  a 
mock  ceremony,  and  pitied  her  as  much  as  they 
blamed  her.  She  had  no  relatives  to  take  it  up 
and  right  her  wrong  —  no  one,  except  her  feeble 
mother.  Louis  LeDru  was  repeatedly  written  to, 
but  never  heard  frotn — he  never  made  one  pro- 
vision for  her.  The  shock  of  shame  and  grief 
soon  carried  poor  Mrs.  Burke  to  the  grave,  and 
after  that,  Nettie  disappeared,  no  one  knows 
where." 

"  Poor  girl!"  said  Vance,  with  deep  sympathy. 

"  Poor  girl,  indeed!"  echoed  Mr.  Herbert,  kindly. 

"  She  was  a  noble  girl,  and  bitterly  wronged," 
said  Mrs.  Herbert.  "  I  knew  her  well  once,  and 
loved  her  dearly." 

"  Where  did  they  live?  "  inquired  Vance.  "  I 
have  forgotten  the  location. " 

"  No.  40,  Blank  Street,  South,"  said  Mrs.  Her- 
bert. "  It  makes  me  sad  whenever  I  pass  that 
way  now. " 

"  It  is  a  sad  recollection,  Mrs.  Herbert.  I  sup- 
pose you  know  nothing  of  the  faithless  Louis?  " 

"  No,  nor  wish  to.  Doubtless  he  has  carried  his 
peculiar  talents  to  'fields  and  pastures  new.'  Maybe 
deceiving  some  other  innocent  girl,  for  all  we 
know. " 

A  sharp  pang  shot  through  Vance's  heart  as  Mrs. 
Herbert  spoke  the  last  words,  and  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty he  could  repress  the  deep  groan  which  rose  to 
his  lips. 

Mrs.  Herbert  was  right.  And  that  other  '  inno- 
cent girl '  was  his  own  cousin,  dearer  than  his  life! 


112  A    LINK   ADDED. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A   LINK   ABOED. 

"  I  can  but  suspect — 
I  give  you  my  notion,  form  yours  and  reflect. " 

— Meredith. 

WHEN  Vance  left  his  kind 'friends  he  promised 
to  visit  them  again,  should  he  remain  in  the  city  any 
time. 

He  went  from  Mr.  Herbert's  straight  to  number 
40  Blank  street,  and  asked  to  see  the  mistress  of 
the  house. 

He  was  shown  into  a  dingy  parlor,  carpeted  with 
a  faded  carpet,  hung  with  faded  curtains,  and  fur- 
nished with  old-fashioned  furniture,  to  wait  for  her. 

She  came  in  directly,  an  elderly  lady,  as  faded 
and  dingy  as  her  house,  with  "  landlady  "  legibly 
written  all  over  her  tired  face.  Vance  was  con- 
firmed in  his  surmise  that  number  40  was  still  a 
student's  boarding-house. 

"  Did  you  wish  to  see  me,  sir?  "  asked  the  woman, 
with  a  stiff  bow. 

"  Yes,  madame.  "  Vance  returned  her  bow,  and 
with  native  courtesy  placed  a  chair  for  her. 

She  sat  down,  a  pleased  expression  dawning  in 
her  faded  face  at  the  unusual  attention,  and  said  in 
a  more  cordial  tone: 

"  Perhaps  you  wish  rooms,  sir?  " 

"  No,  madame.  I  am  not  a  student  now,  though 
I  used  to  be  one,"  answered  Vance,  pleasantly..  "  I 
called  to  make  some  inquiries  regarding  the  former 
owners  of  this  house,  Mrs.  Burke  and  her  daughter. " 

"  Mrs.  Burke  is  dead,  sir." 

"  I  am  aware  of  that  fact.  Beyond  it  I  know 
nothing.  Does  Miss  Burke  still  own  the  house?  " 

"  No,  sir;   I  own  it." 

"  Ah!     I  beg   pardon    if  my   seeming   curiosity 


A    LINK    ADDED.  Il3 

annoys  you.  But  I  have  come  a  long  journey  to 
find  Miss  Burke.  Do  you  know  where  she  is?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  least  idea,  sir.  I  did  not  buy 
the  property  directly  of  her,  but  of  the  man  who 
acted  as  her  agent." 

"  Can  you  direct  me  to  this  gentleman?" 

"  I  cannot,  indeed,  sir.  His  name  was  Brown. 
He  has  removed  with  his  family  to  Texas,  but  I 
have  no  idea  of  his  address." 

"  Could  you  suggest  any  one  who  would  be  likely 
to  know  it?  " 

"  I  could  not,  I  am  sure." 

"  Nor  any  one  who  would  know  anything  of  Miss 
Burke?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  couldn't.  Miss  Burke  has  been 
searched  for,  and  not  found."  She  looked  keenly 
at  Vance  for  a  moment,  and  added:  "  It  can  hardly 
be  possible  that  you  are " 

"  The  missing  husband?  "  supplied  Vance,  as  she 
hesitated.  "  No,  madame,  nor  any  relation  to 
either  of  them.  Nevertheless,  I  am  strongly  at 
work  in  her  interests.  My  name  is  Douglas.  I  am 
from  Frankfort,  Kentucky.  Stay!  I  will  give  you 
my  card,  and  if  at  any  time  you  chance  to  hear  of 
Miss  Burke  and  would  send  the  news  to  my  address, 
it  would  be  a  great  favor. " 

"  I  would  do  it,  with  pleasure,  Mr.  Douglas," 
said  the  landlady,  quite  won  by  Vance's  frank, 
courteous  manner.  "My  name  is  Beach  —  Mrs. 
Lydia  Beach." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Vance,  producing  his  note- 
book. "  I  will  just  write  that  down,«for  fear  I  forget 
it.  You  know  the  name  of  the  man  who  was 
reported  to  be  Miss  Burke's  husband?" 

"  I  believe  not.  I  did,  once,  but  I  seem  to  have 
forgotten  it  now." 

"  It  might  be  of  service  to  you  to  know  it,"  said 
Vance.  He  took  another  of  his  own  cards,  wrote 


114  A    LINK    ADDED. 

"  Louis  LeDru  "  on  the  blank  side,  and  gave  it  to 
Mrs.  Beach,  saying,  "  There  it  is." 

"  'LeDru!'  Yes,  yes,  that  is  it,"  said  she.  "  I 
had  quite  forgotten  it.  " 

"Well,  I  need  not  trouble  you  longer,"  said 
Vance,  rising. 

Mrs.  Beach  rose  also.  "  Indeed  I  wish  I  could 
be  of  service  to  you,  Mr.  Douglas,"  she  said  earn- 
estly. "Stop! — I  may  give  you  one  little  item. 
I  can  tell  you  the  name  of  an  old  colored  woman 
who  formerly  lived  with  the  Burkes  as  servant.  I 
heard  that  for  want  of  a  better  place,  Miss  Burke 
stayed  with  her  before  she  left  the  city.  If  any- 
one can  give  you  any  information,  she  can." 

"  I  shall  feel  deeply  grateful  for  her  name  and 
address,  Mrs.  Beach." 

"  Her  name  is  Harriet  Spaulding.  She  lives  in 
a  little  bit  of  a  brown  house  with  a  yellow  door,  at 
the  very  end  of  the  next  street  to  this,  just  opposite 
the  Northern  freight  depot  She  takes  in  washing 
and  ironing.  Her  name  and  trade  are  on  a  sign 
over  the  door,  so  you  can't  miss  the  place." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  information.  I  will  go  there 
at  once,"  said  Vance,  quite  cheered  by  this  news. 

"  I'm  sure  you  are  heartily  welcome,  Mr.  Douglas. 
I  wish  I  could  tell  you  more.  I  hope  you  will  suc- 
ceed in  gaining  all  you  need  from  Harriet  Spaulding. 
Good-afternoon,  sir!  " 

"  Good-afternoon,  Mrs.  Beach. " 

Vance  touched  his  hat,  and  departed,  not  with 
Mr.  LeDru's  courtly  grace,  but  such  genuine  gen- 
tlemanly courtly  and  respect  that  the  tired  land- 
lady returned  to  her  monotonous  round  of  duties, 
wishing  that  some  of  -her  student  boarders  were  like 
that  young  man. 

Vance  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  old  colored 
laundress.  But  she  was  able  to  give  him  very  little 
help  indeed. 


A   LINK    ADDED.  115 

"  Dunno'  nuffin'  'tall  'bout  depore,  'bused  lamb," 
said  old  Harriet,  "  'cept  that  she  tole  me  she  war 
'gwine  to  some  place  called  Millbank  to  see  fur  a 
livin'." 

"  Do  you  know  where  Millbank  is?"  asked  Vance. 

"  'Deed,  sah,  I  doesn't!  Twas  on  some  railroad 
or  'nuther,  but  I  dunno  which.  'Deed,  I  hain't  sure 
as  Millbank  war  de  name  o'  de  town,  but  'pears  to 
me  dat  war  it.  I  writ  her  one  letter,  but  I  hain't 
nebber  got  no  word  from  her,  an'  I  don't  know  nuf- 
fin 'bout  what's  become  o'  de  pore,  dear  child!  " 

Seeing  that  he  could  learn  no  more  of  her,  Vance 
took  his  leave.  And  old  Harriet  was  the  richer  for 
his  call  —  he  saw  that  money  would  be  acceptable 
here. 

With  a  heavy  heart  he  returned  to  his  hotel,  and 
sat  down  to  the  only  comfort  he  now  had  —  to 
write  to  Florence.  It  was  very  little  he  had  to  tell 
her,  as  yet.  But  he  had  made  one  important  step 
forward. 

He  was  sure  that  Mr.  LeDru  had  a  wife.  Like 
Mrs.  Herbert,  he  did  not  accept  the  theory  of  the 
mock-marriage.  He  believed  it  to  be  a  real  one, 
and  he  had  discovered  that  Louis  was  a  much 
greater  scoundrel  than  he  had  supposed  him  to  be. 

Yes,  Louis  LeDru  had  a  lawful  wife  —  if  she  yet 
lived.  There  was  no  reason  to  believe  her  dead, 
and  his  next  move  must  be  to  find  her,  and  estab- 
lish, beyond  a  doubt,  the  truth  of  what  he  had 
heard.  After  all  he  retired  to  his  couch  somewhat 
encouraged.  He  had  spent  but  one  day  in  New 
Haven,  and  already  he  knew  that  he  had  not  come 
all  this  distance  merely  to  run  a  tilt  at  a  windmill. 


Il6  ON   THE   TRAIL. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

ON   THE   TRAIL. 

"He had  thrown  — 
And  had  missed  his  last  stake. " 

— Mertdithi 

VANCE  rose  early  next  morning,  made  an  excel- 
lent breakfast,  and  proceeded  with  his  next  step. 

As  far  as  he  could  see  now,  that  was  to  find  all 
the  places  on  all  the  railroads,  stage-roads,  or  any 
sort  of  roads,  within  fifty  or  a  hundred  miles  of 
New  Haven,  which  were  known  by  the  name  of 
Millbank. 

Then  to  visit  those  places,  one  by  one,  in  search 
of  Nettie  LeDru  —  for  that  was  the  name  Vance 
now  gave  her,  believing  in  her  right  to  bear  it.  He 
spent  the  entire  morning  consulting  railway  tables, 
stage  routes  and  hotel  guides,  and  making  inquiries 
wherever  he  saw  the  least  chance  of  success. 

He  found  just  two  places  by  the  name  of  Mill- 
bank.  And  these  he  could  readily  reach,  as  they 
were  both  on  railroads. 

One  was  quite  a  small  place,  the  other  a  large 
manufacturing  town.  Vance  took  the  train  for  the 
smallest  one  first,  as  it  was  the  nearest  and  could  be 
gone  over  in  the  least  time. 

He  arrived  near  sunset,  and  stepped  fiomthe 
train  into  a  shabby,  straggling  little  village,  with 
one  small  street  running  through  it,  guiltless  of 
pavements,  and  plentifully  edged  with  dog-fennel 
and  iron-weed. 

"  It  won't  take  long  to  inquire  at  every  house  in 
this  miserable  little  place,"  said  Vance  to  himself. 
"  But  I'm  inclined  to  think  she  never  took  refuge 
here.  She  could  lose  herself  much  better  in  a 
larger  town." 

The  one  tavern  was  a  nice,  clean   looking  house, 


ON   THE  TRAIL.  117 

with  a  bustling  landlord,  and  a  motherly,  good- 
natured  landlady.  As  he  would  be  obliged  to  stay 
all  night,  Vance  was  glad  to  see  this.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  the  landlord  would  be  likely  to  know 
everybody  in  the  village,  so  he  could  begin  his  in- 
quiry without  going  out  into  the  town. 

"  You  have  a  nice  little  place  here, "he  remarked 
to  the  landlord,  as  they  sat  on  the  verandah,  after 
supper. 

"Yes,  so-so!  So-so!  "  answered  the  host,  with 
an  air  of  assumed  indifference. 

"  Much  business  stirring?"  asked  Vance. 

"  Well,  pretty  fair,  sir,  pretty  fair!  We  only 
have  one  store,  but  it  does  a  thriving  trade,  I  may 
say." 

"  Let  me  see,"  pursued  Vance,  reflectively,  "  I 
used  to  know  a  lady  who  moved  to  a  town  named 
Millbank,  to  work  at  dress-making,  or  something 
like  that.  I  wonder  if  this  could  be  the  place?" 

"  Lady's  name,  sir?"  asked  the  landlord. 

"  Her  name  was  Miss  Burke,  when  I  knew  her," 
said  Vance,  thinking  to  try  that  name  first. 

"Burke?  Burke?"  mused  the  landlord.  "No- 
body of  that  name  here,  sir.  I  know  everybody  in 
town,  and  always  have.  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  returned  Vance.  "  I  have 
heard  that  the  lady  I  mean  has  been  married  since 
I  sawiier.  If  that  is  true,  her  name  would-be  Le- 
Dru." 

The  landlord  shook  his  head.  "  No  such  lady 
ever  been  here,  sir.  There  are  only  two  women  in 
town  who  do  sewing  of  any  kind.  One  is  Miss 
Carter  —  that's  her  shop  over  there,  across  the 
street,  and  she  came  from  York  state.  That's  her, 
now,  standin'  in  her  door." 

Vance  glanced  over  and  saw  a  tall,  auburn-haired 
woman  of  near  forty  years,  not  in  the  least  degree 
like  Nettie. 


IlS  ON    THE   TRAIL. 

"  That  is  not  her,  certain,"  he  said. 

"  T'other  one's  widow  Green,  and  she's  always 
lived  here,"  resumed  the  landlord.  "  Then  there's 
Nabby  Shearer,  she's  a  tailoress,  and  goes  out  by 
the  week,  but  she  was  born  and  raised  here,  too." 

"  It  must  have  been  some  other  Millbank  that  the 
lady  I  knew,  went  to,"  said  Vance. 

"Yes,  sir,  that  it  must,"  returned  mine  host 
Ramsay.  "  I've  known  every  stranger  that  come 
to  town  for  the  last  ten  years,  and  there  has  been 
no  strange  lady  working  at  anything,  except  Miss 
Brand,  the  music  teacher,  and  she  only  stayed  three 
months.  Be  the  lady  you  want  a  relation  o' yours, 
sir?  " 

"  No,  no  relation,"  answered  Vance. 

Oh!  I  thought  mebby  she  was,  as  you  seem 
anxious  to  find  her." 

Vance  thought  a  moment.  He  knew  there' was 
sure  to  be  gossip  in  a  little  place  like  this,  and 
though  it  might  never  affect  Nettie,  he  chose  to 
direct  it  himself,  after  mentioning  her  name.  So  he 
said: 

"  I  live  near  some  relations  of  hers,  and  there  is  a 
large  property  in  the  case  which  it  would  be  greatly 
to  her  advantage  to  hear  of.  Indeed,  my  business 
here  was  to  find  her,  and  help  her  establish  her 
rights. " 

"  Well,  now!  I  want  to  know!  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Ramsay.  "  I  suppose  you  are  a  lawyer,  then?" 

"  You  are  certain  she  is  not  here?"  asked  Vance, 
without  replying  to  the  question. 

"  No,  sir,  she  ain't  here.  I'd  be  bound  to  know 
it,  if  she  was  —  but  no  such  person  has  ever  been 
here. " 

"  Well,  tfrere  is  another  Millbank  not  far  off,  I 
hear —  I'll  try  there,"  said  Vance. 

"  Yes,  sir,  there's  another  Millbank  on  the  South- 


ON   THE   TRAIL.  I  19 

eastern  road  —  heap  bigger  place  than  this,  too. 
Mebby  you'll  find  her  there. " 

"  Perhaps  I  shall,"  said  Vance. 

"  It's  a  big  fortin,  is  it?  "  asked  Mr.  Ramsay. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Vance.  Thinking  it  quite 
likely  his  host  might  "  want  to  know  "  altogether 
too  much,  and  not  proposing  to  tell  any  more,  he 
took  himself  off  to  bed. 

Next  morning,  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure, 
he  took  a  walk  through  the  village,  and  made  some 
inquiries  of  the  postmaster  and  the  store-keeper, 
but  met  with  no  success. 

It  was  evident  poor  Nettie  LeDru  had  never 
taken  refuge  here. 

Determined  to  waste  no  time,  he  left  on  the 
morning  train.  Before  night  the  story  was  all  over 
the  little  town  that  he  was  a  lawyer  from  New 
Haven  hunting  up  the  lost  heiress  to  a  great  fortune. 

Vance  found  Millbank  Number  Two  quite  a 
thriving  place,  full  of  bustle  and  business.  He 
remained  there  three  days,  and  worked  in  the  most 
systematic  manner,  but  he  could  come  upon  not 
one  trace  of  the  lost  Nettie. 

Evidently  if  she  ever  had  come  here,  it  was  not 
under  her  own  name,  and  his  clew  seemed  utterly 
lost  and  out  of  reach.  He  inserted  in  the  daily 
papers  a  notice  which,  if  it  fell  under  her  eye,  would 
direct  her  without  attracting  the  attention  of  others. 
And  then,  able  to  think  of  nothing  else  he  could 
do,  and  it  being  Saturday  afternoon,  he  resolved  to 
return  to  New  Haven. 

There  he  would  spend  the  Sabbath  with  the 
Herberts,  and  on  Monday  he  would  tell  Mr.  Her- 
bert his  whole%  story,  and  consult  him  on  the  next 
step. 

Perhaps  his  legal  lore  and  acumen  would  readily 
avail  where  Vance  himself  would  be  only  at  fault. 


120      SOMETHING   NOT    ON    THE   PROGRAMME. 

As  he  could  not  get  along  without  help,  he  must 
have  it,  that  was  all. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SOMETHING  NOT  ON  THE  PROGRAMME. 

"  There  is  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  as  we  will." 

WEARY  and  disheartened  Vance  took  his  sea,,  in 
the  train  for  New  Haven.  He  was  jaded  with  rail- 
road riding,  anxiety  and  loss  of  sleep,  and  pulling 
his  traveling  cap  over  his  eyes,  he  leaned  back  in 
his  seat  and  fell  into  a  doze. 

He  was  roused  by  the  brakeman,  who  opened  the 
door  near  which  Vance  was  sitting,  yelled  into  the 
car  "  M-i-11-ba-a-nk!  "  about  as  intelligibly  as  gen- 
tlemen of  his  ilk  generally  do,  and  immediately 
went  out,  slamming  the  door  after  him. 

Vance  sprang  from  his  seat,  caught  up  his  valise, 
and  was  out  on  the  platform  as  soon  as  the  train 
had  fairly  stopped,  and  before  he  was  fairly  awake, 
thinking  this  must  be  another  Millbank,  which  he 
had  missed  finding,  and  of  curse  he  ought  to  stop 
here. 

But  as  the  train  receded,  and  he  saw  quite  a 
pretty  town  lying  on  the  hills  around  him,  he  began 
to  collect  his  thoughts.  And  then  he  knew  there 
could  not  be  two  Millbanks  so  near  together,  on  the 
same  road,  and  something  must  be  wrong. 

"  I've  made  a  blunder,  someway,"  said  he.  Then 
observing  a  man  Mio  was  wheeling  a  load  of  trunks 
into  the  baggage  room,  he  addressed  him: 

"  Is  this  place  Millbank?" 

"No,  sir,  this  is  Willowbank."  answered  the 
man. 

"  How  far  to  New  Haven?"  asked  Vance. 


SOMETHING   NOT   OX    THE   PROGRAMME.       121 

"  Thirty  miles,  sir." 

"  Any  other  train  up  to-night?" 

"  No,  sir,  not  until  Monday  morning."  The  man 
passed  on  with  his  load,  thinking,  "  Now  what  in 
thunder  does  the  fellow  want  a  traTn  to  New  Haven 
for,  when  he's  just  off  the  train  going  straight 
there?" 

While  Vance,  standing  on  the  platform,  was 
blaming  himself  severely  for  making  such  a  stupid 
blunder.  However,  there  was  no  help  for  it  now 
—  he  would  have  to  spend  the  Sabbath  where  he 
was. 

He  found  a  nice  looking  hotel,  secured  a  room, 
and  had  an  excellent  supper.  After  the  meal  he 
took  a  stroll  through  the  town,  and  admired  t"he 
beautiful  New  England  scenery,  which  a  glorious 
moon  made  only  more  lovely. 

He  went  back  to  the  hotel  at  an  early  hour,  and 
being  very  weary,  retired  to  bed.  He  intended  to 
get  up  next  morning  and  attend  divine  service  in 
one  of  the  pretty  churches  he  had  seen  during  his 
walk. 

But  he  was  so  worn  out  with  travel,  loss  of  sleep 
and  deep  anxiety  that  when  he  woke  and  looked  at 
his  watch  it  was  past  noon  of  the  Sabbath  day. 

"  For  pity's  sake!  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  hastily 
got  out  of  bed,  "  I  wonder  why  I  didn't  sleep  a 
week,  and  be  done  with  it!  " 

He  dressed  himself,  went  down  to  the  hotel  bath 
room  and  refreshed  himself  with  a  good  bath.  Then 
he  renewed  his  toilet,  and  was  ready  to  present 
himself  in  time  for  dinner. 

In  the  afternoon  he  sat  in  the  reading  room  of 
the  hotel,  and  glanced  over  the  newspaper  until 
near  four  o'clock. 

"  It  will  be  a  beautiful  sunset,"  he  remarked  to 
himself,  looking  out  of  a  window  near.  "  I  believe 


122      SOMETHING   NOT   ON  THE   PROGRAMME. 

I'll  take  a  walk,  and  see  it  over  these  Connecticut 
hills." 

It  was  the  loveliest  hour  of  a  golden  autumn 
Sabbath  evening  when  he  strolled  out  from  the 
hotel.  He  wandered  far  down  a  shady  street  with 
a  view  of  the  river  to  the  west,  until  he  was  almost 
at  the  end  of  the  pretty  village. 

In  front  of  a  small  cottage  two  chubby  little  boys 
were  busy  at  play.  Just  as  Vance  was  passing  by, 
one  of  them  tripped  his  toe  and  fell  flat  on  his  nose. 

Always  kind  to  children,  the  tall  young  gentle- 
man stooped  and  picked  the  urchin  up,  saying,  in 
cheery  tones: 

"  Hullo,  little  chap!     Are  you  much  hurt?  " 

'  'Most  knocked  my  bref  out!  "  panted  the  rosy 
little  fellow,  sturdily.  "  But  I  won't  cry,  Mister!  " 

"  That's  a  brave  little  man!  There's  a  dime  for 
your  pluck,"  said  Vance,  laughing,  and  slipping  a 
small  coin  into  the  child's  hand.  "  Now  you're  all 
right,  are  you?  " 

"  Yes,  sir!  Thank  ye,  sir!  "  returned  the  child, 
looking  up,  smiling  with  glee  at  his  unexpected 
good  fortune. 

But  as  Vance  plainly  saw  the  little,  upturned 
face,  he  caught  his  breath  in  sudden  surprise. 

Where  did  the  child  get  those  wonderful,  mag- 
netic, black  eyes,  that  dazzling  complexion,  red 
lips  and  jetty,  waving  hair?  If  ever  on  earth  a 
child's  face  was  the  image  of  a  man's  face,  that  boy 
was  the  image  of  Louis  LeDru! 

"Good    heavens!     What    a   likeness!"   thought 
Vance.     Then  he  questioned  the  child. 
What  is  your  name,  my  little  man?  " 

The  child  hung  his  pretty  head,  and  only  flashed 
a  bashful  glance  by  way  of  reply. 

"  Come!  won't  you  tell  me?  "  urged  Vance,  in  a 
kind  tone.  "  I  like  little  boys.  Tell  your  name, 
won't  you?  " 


SOMETHING  NOT  ON  THE  PROGRAMME.       12$ 

The  curly  head  still  hung  bashfully.  But  the 
other  little  fellow  volunteered  the  information,  say- 
ing, "  His  name's  Willie  LeDru. " 

Vance  turned  white,  and  the  whole  world  reeled 
with  him,  just  then.  He  was  actually  obliged  to 
lean  against  the  fence  a  moment,  for  support. 
Then  he  asked  unsteadily  : 

"  Where  do  you  live,  Willie?  "  The  child  glanced 
up  again,  smiled,  but  still  did  not  answer. 

Vance  took  a  quarter  from  his  pocket  and  held 
it  up.  "  Here,  I'll  give  you  this  if  you'll  tell  me. " 

The  silver  argument  loosened  Willie's  tongue. 
Holding  out  his  hand  for  the  money,  he  said,  "  Live 
right  here,"  and  pointed  to  the  cottage  in  front  of 
which  they  were  at  play. 

"  Is  your  papa  at  home?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  Haven't  got  any  papa.  Guess  he's  died," 
responded  the  little  fellow. 

A  mist  swam  before  Vance's  eyes,  and  for  a 
moment  his  head  reeled  again.  But  he  controlled 
himself  at  once,  and  asked:  "  Is  mamma  at  home, 
then?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Well,  Willie,  I  want  to  see  her,"  said  Vance. 
"  Come  to  the  house  with  me,  will  you?  " 

But  the  five-year-old  eyed  the  tall  stranger, 
doubtfully. 

"  Mamma  don't  know  you,"  said  he; 

"  Yes,  she  does,"  replied  Vance.  "  Come,  you 
run  in  and  tell  her  I  want  to  see  her."  He  held 
out  his  hand,  and,  half  consenting,  half  reluctant, 
the  child  took  it,  and  they  went  up  the  narrow, 
flower-bordered  path  from  the  gate  to  the  cottage. 

Vance  paused  upon  the  door-step.  Willie  opened 
the  door  and  ran  in,  crying  out,  "  Mamma!  mamma! 
here's  a  man  wants  you." 

In  a  moment  a  lady  came  to  the  door,  and  Vance's 
last  doubt  was  removed.  A  little  older  and  paler 


124      SOMETHING   NOT   OX   THE    PROGRAMME. 

than  when  he  saw  her  last,  he  recognized  her  in- 
stantly —  it  was  the  Nettie  Burke  of  olden  times 
who  stood  before  him. 

"  Good-evening,  sir,"  she  said,  civilly,  advancing 
to  the  door. 

"  Good-evening,  Mrs.  LeDru,"  returned  Vance, 
lifting  his  hat. 

"Will  you  walk  in?  "said  the  lady,  and  Vance 
perceived  that  she  was  looking  keenly  at  him. 

Vance  stepped  inside  and  held  out  his  hand,  say- 
ing cordially: 

"  Don't  you  remember  mef  I  used  to  know  you 
in  New  Haven." 

She  turned  pale,  and  he  saw  that  the  mention 
of  New  Haven  had  affected  her  visibly,  as  she  an- 
swered, without  accepting  his  offered  hand: 

"  I  recall  your  face,  but  the  name " 

"  Douglas,  of  Kentucky,"  supplied  Vance,  as 
she  hesitated. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  you  now,  Mr.  Douglas," 
said  Nettie,  giving  him  her  hand  for  an  instant. 
"  Please  take  a  chair,  will  you?  " 

She  did  not  say  she  was  glad  to  see  him.  Vance 
noticed  the  omission,  but  he  took  the  chair  she 
offered.  She  "sat  down  at  some  distance  from  him, 
with  little  Willie  clinging  to  her  and  eyeing  the  tall 
stranger,  his  money  tightly  clasped  in  his  chubby 
hand. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  surprised  to  see  me,  Mrs.  Le- 
Dru? "  remarked  Vance. 

"  Yes  —  1  —  I  did  not  know  that  any  one  in  New 
Haven  was  aware  of  my  —  my  residence  here," 
she  answered,  a  pink  hue  tinting  her  pale  face  as 
she  hesitated  over  the  words. 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  a  single  soul  in  New 
Haven  is  aware  of  that  fact,"  said  Vance.  "  I  am 
certain  that  I  could  not,  by  any  means,  come  upon 


SOMETHING  NOT   ON  THE   PROGRAMME.       125 

any  trace  of  you  there.  It  is  only  by  accident  I 
have  found  you  at  last." 

"  You  have  been  seeking  me  then?"  she  asked, 
an  expression  of  alarm  crossing  her  features. 

"  For  more  than  ten  days,  Mrs.  LeDru,"  answered 
Vance,  gravely. 

The  expression  of  alarm  deepened,  and  Vance 
saw  her  put  her  arm  closely  around  Willie,  who 
squirmed,  and  said,  "  Mamma,  don't  squeeze  me 
so!  " 

"  Mamma  didn't  meantohurtyou,  dear!  Nobody 
shall  harm  Willie,  while  mamma  is  near!  "  she  said, 
almost  fiercely.  Then  she  added,  turning  to  Vance, 
"  Had  you  business  with  me,  Mr.  Douglas?" 

"  I  had,  certainly,"  returned  Vance. 

"  Who  sent  you?"  she  demanded. 

"  No  one  sent  me,  and  only  one  person  living 
knows  I  left  home  with  that  intention,"  answered 
Vance.  "  But  I  came  all  the  way  from  Kentucky, 
with  the  one  object  of  finding  you." 

"  Mamma,  I  say,  don't  squeeze  me  so!"  cried 
little  Willie.  "  Lem'me  go  play!  " 

"  Go!  then,  darling,  but  don't  go  far  from  the 
house,"  said  his  mother,  releasing  him.  As  he  ran 
away  Vance  said: 

"  Mrs.  LeDru,  I  see  you  are  uneasy  about  your 
boy.  Let  me  assure  you  that  my  business  does 
not  menace  him  in  the  least — rather  the  contrary. 
Yoli  have  not  the  least  cause  for  alarm. " 

"Thank  you  for  the  assurance,"  said  Nettie, 
breathing  more  freely.  "  Perhaps  I  am  foolish 
about  Willie — he  is  all  I  have  you  see. "  And  she 
smiled,  a  wan,  sad  smile  which  touched  Vance's 
kind  heart  deeply. 

"  Mr.  Douglas,  I  notice  you  call  me  Mrs.  LeDru," 
she  went  on.  "  Do  you  chance  to  know  that  my 
right  to  that  title  has  been  disputed?  " 


126      SOMETHING  NOT  ON    THE    PROGRAMME. 

"  I  do.  I  have  come  to  assist  you  in  establish- 
ing that  right." 

"  You?  I  cannot  see  what  good  it  would  do 
you?  "  said  Nettie  in  tones  of  proud  surprise. 

Vance  hesitated.  His  task  was  becoming  a  hard 
one,  but  he  knew  he  must  tell  the  whole  trying 
story.  He  first  asked  a  question: 

"  Mrs.  LeDru,  do  you  know  where  your  hus- 
band is  at  present?  " 

She  turned  deathly  white,  but  answered,  "  I  do 
not. " 

"  May  I  ask  you  to  have  entire  confidence  in 
me?  "  asked  Vance.  "  I  come  only  as  a  friend  to 
you,  but  in  order  to  prevent  a  great  wrong,  you 
must  trust  me  fully. " 

"  I  will  do  so,  Mr.  Douglas,  if  you  will  assure  me 
that  he  did  not  send  you  here." 

"  So  far  from  sending  me,"  said  Vance,  solemnly, 
"  I  have  not  a  doubt  that  Louis  LeDru  would  have 
taken  my  life,  if  he  had  imagined  that  I  was  bound 
on  such  an  errand. " 

"  Then  you  have  seen  him  lately?  " 

"  I  have  lived  under  the  same  roof  with  him  for 
over  three  months,  Mrs.  LeDru." 

Every  drop  of  blood  forsook  Nettie's  face,  then 
surged  back  in  heavy  crimson  waves,  as  she  said: 

"  /  have  not  seen  or  heard  from  him  for  five 
years!  " 

"  What!  "  cried  Vance,  in  deep  indignation,  ""he 
has  not  left  you  to  provide  for  yourself  and  your 
child  unaided?  " 

"  I  have  never  even  known  whether  he  was  dead 
or  alive,  Mr.  Douglas." 

"  Does  he  know  he  has  a  son  living?  " 

"  He  knew  of  Willie's  birth.  He  has  never  seen 
him. " 

Vance's  honest  eyes  glowed. 

"  Well!     I  knew  him  for  a  villain!     But  not  so 


SOMETHING   NOT   ON   THE   PROGRAMME.        12? 

deep-dyed  as  this!  "  he  exclaimed,  then  added 
hastily,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  LeDru,  but  I 
really  couldn't  help  saying  that." 

"  I  am  not  the  one  to  blame  you,  Mr.  Douglas. 
I  know,  too  well,  that  he  deserves  the  worst  you 
can  think  of  him." 

"  But  I  fear  you  do  not  know  the  worst  I  have  yet 
to  tell,"  said  Vance,  gently. 

Her  pale  face  flushed  again.  "  Is  he —  is  Louis  — 
is  he  married  again?  "  she  asked,  with  a  strong 
effort  at  self-control. 

"  No,  not  yet,"  Vance  answered. 

"But  —  but  he — oh,  Mr.  Douglas,  do  not  keep 
me  in  suspense!  " 

"  Not  a  moment  longer  than  is  necessary,  my 
dear  Mrs.  LeDru.  Louis  ^^contemplate  another 
marriage.  I  say  another,  for  I  believe  that  he  was 
legally  married  to  you." 

Nettie  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  piteouslyup 
into  his  face,  as  she  said:  "  Oh,  bless  you  for  that, 
Mr.  Douglas!  Indeed,  indeed  our  marriage  was 
legal!  However  wicked  Louis  may  since  have 
been,  he  meant  me  true  at  the  time,  indeed  he 
did!" 

"  I  am  sure  of  that,  poor  girl.     But  now  he  is 
steeping  himself  in  crime,  and  it  is  to  prevent  this, 
and  to  save  an  innocent  girl  that  you  and  I  must 
unite  forces." 
'  "  Mr.  Douglas,  what  is  that  girl  to  you?" 

"  My  own  cousin,  and  far  dearer  than  my  life! " 
answered  Vance,  fervently. 

"  That  is  enough.  I  see  your  motive,"  said 
Nettie.  "  I  do  not  fear,  now,  to  tell  you  my  whole 
story,  Mr.  Douglas.  Perhaps  I  had  better  do  so 
before  I  hear  yours. " 

"  Just  as  you  choose,"  said  Vance.  "  But  I  ask 
you  to  speak  to  me  freely  as  to  a  brother.  I  came 
here  prepared  to  act  as  such  to  you." 


128  THE    WIFE'S   STORY. 

"  I  will  do  so,"  said  Nettie.     And  then  she  be- 
gan her  story. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   WIFE'S   STORY. 

"  I  know  not,  I  ask  not,  if  guilt's  in  thy  heart, 
I  know  that  I  love  thee,  whatever  thou  art." 

Moore. 

"  IF  I  remember  rightly,  Mr.  Douglas,  you  were 
in  college  when  my  father  died?" 

"  I  was.  I  deeply  loved  and  respected  Professor 
Burke,"  said  Vance. 

"  All  the  students  loved  him,  he  was  a  good  and 
noble  man.  But  he  left  us  very  poor.  We  owned 
our  home,  but  had  no  income  at  all,  so  we  took 
student  boarders,  as  you  probably  are  aware. " 

"  Yes.  I  also  know  that  Louis  boarded  with 
you. " 

"  You  know,  too,  what  a  fascinating  man  he  was, 
and  what  an  influence  he  could  have  over  a  young 
and  susceptible  girl?" 

Vance  bowed  silently.  Ah,  did  he  not  know 
that. 

"  You  will  not  wonder  then  that  when  Louis 
began  to  profess  to  love  me  —  and  I  believe  he  did 
for  a  while  —  he  soon  won  me  to  return  it.  I  dp 
love  him  to  this  day,  unworthy  as  he  is.  He  was 
deeply  devoted  to  me  at  home,  but  he  seldom  took 
me  out  in  public.  This  was  partly  my  own  fault, 
however.  I  could  not  dress  as  I  shall  been  accus- 
tomed to  do,  and  I  would  not  go  out  looking 
shabby,  so  I  sometimes  refused  when  Louis  did 
wish  to  take  me.  My  mother  was  in  such  feeble 
health  that  she  could  not  have  over  me  the  care  I 
needed,  and  before  long  Louis  had  my  promise  to 
become  his  wife.  But  it  was  to  be  kept  an  entire 


THE  WIFE'S  STORY.  129 

secret,  for  if  his  father,  who  was  very  wealthy, 
learned  that  he  had  married  a  poor  girl,  he  would 
be  disinherited  and  left  with  no  means  of  support. 
For  myself,  I  did  not  care.  I  was  used  to  poverty, 
and  thought  we  could  live  as  happily  poor  as  rich. 
But  Louis  was  so  anxious  to  keep  it  a  secret  that  I 
consented.  I  know  now  that  it  was  wrong,  but  at 
the  time  I  was  so  much  under  Louis'  influence  that 
he  made  it  seem  right.  Besides,  I  was  so  ignorant 
that  I  did  not  dream  what  a  matter  of  importance 
it  would  become.  Louis  arranged  everything,  and 
I  consented  to  whatever  he  proposed.  There  was 
a  grand  concert  to  be  given  over  in  Hartford.  We 
went  over,  ostensibly  to  attend  it.  We  did  do  so, 
but  first  we  went  to  the  house  of  a  minister,  where 
we  were  as  lawfully  married  as  people  ever  were." 

"  Why  did  you  not  go  to  that  minister  to  prove 
your  marriage?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  I  did  not  know  either  his  name  or  residence. 
In  my  excitement  I  forgot  to  ask  his  name,  and  I 
presume  Louis  did  not  think  to  tell  me.  It  was 
very  near  dark  when  we  drove  to  his  residence,  so 
I  could  not  have  remembered  the  locality  had  I 
wished  to  do  so.  But  you  can  readily  understand, 
Mr.  Douglas,  that  just  then  I  thought  of  nothing 
but  Louis  and  the  hasty  step  we  were  taking." 

"  Yes,  poor  child,  no  doubt  of  that!  "  said  Vance, 
in  pitying  tones. 

"  Well,  we  were  married,  and  as  happy  as  could 
be  for  a  while.  My  father  was  gone,  my  mother  an 
invalid,  so  there  was  no  one  at  home  to  prevent  our 
spending  nearly  all  the  time  together.  At  last 
people  began  to  gossip  about  us,  and  then  I  en- 
treated Louis  to  let  our  marriage  be  known." 

"  He  was  soon  to  graduate  and  go  home,  but  he 
told  me  for  my  sake  he  would  go  at  once,  and  con- 
fess first  to  his  father,  then  return  for  me,  and  let 
the  world  know  it.  He  promised  to  be  gone  only 


I3O  THE    WIFE'S    STORY. 

a  few  days,  and  was  so  anxious  to  be  the  first  to 
tell  his  father,  that  I  consented  to  let  him  go.  I 
waited  patiently,  but  he  did  not  come  for  me,  so  I 
wrote  to  him,  asking  how  soon  I  might  expect  him. 
It  was  several  weeks  before  he  answered  my  letter, 
and  then  he  told  me  that  he  had  not  dared  confess, 
being  satisfied  that  his  father  never  would  forgive 
such  a  marriage,  and  that  he  must  conceal  it  until 
he  came  of  age." 

"  Let  me  interrupt  you,"  said  Vance,  "  long 
enough  to  say  that  I  knew  the  elder  Mr.  LeDru. 
He  was  a  bosom  friend  of  my  uncle,  Squire  Doug- 
las, and  not  a  man  who  would  have  taken  such  a 
stand.  He  would  have  received  you  gladly,  if 
Louis  had  made  known  his  marriage,  I  know  he 
would." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,  Mr.  Douglas.  I  wrote  again 
to  him,  telling  him  it  could  not  be  concealed  much 
longer,  and  imploring  him  to  come  to  me  in  my 
distress.  He  answered,  saying  he  was  about  start- 
ing for  a  year's  travel  in  Europe,  and  could  not 
come  to  me,  and  that  on  the  whole,  our  marriage 
had  been  a  mistake,  and  we  had  better  consider  it 
dissolved.  At  any  rate  he  had  grown  tired  of  his 
bond,  and  never  intended  to  live  with  me.  He 
said  I  could  not  compel  him  to  do  so,  as  I  had  no 
proof  of  the  marriage,  and  he  wished  me  well  and 
bid  me  adieu  forever." 

Vance  set  his  lips  hard  to  keep  back  the  words 
which  rose  to  them,  and  listened  with  flashing 
eyes. 

"  When  we  were  first  married,"  Nettie  went  on, 
"  Louis  gave  me  our  marriage  certificate  to  keep.  I 
always  kept  it  in  a  little  rosewood  writing-desk, 
which  had  a  lock  and  key,  and  of  which  Louis  often 
carried  the  key.  When  I  read  his  cruel  letter,  I 
flew  to  my  desk,  sure  that  I  had  a  proof  there  in 
my  certificate.  But,  oh,  Mr.  Douglas,  imagine  my 


THE    WIFE'S   STORY.  131 

terror  and  despair  when  I  found  it  gone!  I  knew 
that  Louis  had  taken  it,  for  no  other  person  on 
earth  knew  of  it  or  its  hiding-place.  It  burst  upon 
me  then  that  my  husband  had  deliberately  aban- 
doned me,  and  purposely  left  me  without  a  hold  on 
him.  In  the  shame  and  agony  of  this  discovery,  I 
was  taken  very  ill,  and  Willie  was  born.  I  used  to 
lie  and  pray  that  \ve  might  both  die,  but  it  was  not 
God's  will.  When  I  got  up,  I  found  that  no  one 
doubted  Louis'  being  Willie's  father,  but  every  one 
doubted  our  marriage." 

"  Not  every  one,"  said  Vance.  "  Mrs.  Herbert 
fully  believes  in  it." 

"  Mary  Herbert,  the  lawyer's  wife?  Do  you 
know  her?  " 

Vance  nodded  assent.     Nettie  went  on: 

"  Yes,  God  bless  her,  she  stood  my  friend  as  long 
as  I  would  let  her.  But  my  mother  could  not  bear 
our  trouble  —  she  grew  worse  and  soon  died." 

"  I  know,"  said  Vance,  as  her  voice  faltered.  "  I 
heard  all  about  it  from  Mrs.  Herbert.  Do  not  dis- 
tress yourself  to  tell  me." 

"  After  that,  then,"  continued  Nettie,  "  I  could 
not  stay  in  New  Haven.  I  would  have  died  sooner 
than  go  to  Louis,  after  he  had  purposely  cast  me 
off.  Besides,  if  I  could  not  hate  him,  neither  could 
I  trust  him.  I  did  not,  and  do  not  now,  ever  de- 
sire to  live  with  him.  I  sold  my  house  —  all  I  had 
—  paid  the  debts  made  by  our  sickness  and  my 
mother's  death,  and  looked  about  for  something  to 
do.  I  had  enough  left  to  buy  a  small  home.  I 
came  out  here  because  I  read  an  advertisement  of  a 
little  house  for  sale  cheap  here,  and  because  nobody 
knew  me  I  bought  this  little  house  where  I  live, 
and  have  supported  myself  and  Willie  with  my 
needle.  I  have  carefully  avoided  going  anywhere 
or  meeting  any  one  likely  to  know  anything  of  my 
past  life.  People  here  suppose  me  to  be  a  young 


132  THE  WIFE'S  STORY. 

widow.  Now,  Mr.  Douglas,  you  know  all  my 
story.  Please  tell  me  yours  as  frankly." 

Vance  then  began  with  their  first  meeting  Louis 
during  that  morning  ride,  and  told  her  every  partic- 
ular, even  including  his  confidence  in  Florence,  and 
the  revelations  of  Sam  concerning  Myra. 

"  I  did  not  attach  much  importance  to  that  story, 
at  first,"  he  said.  "  But  in  the  light  of  what  you 
have  told  me,  it  looks  very  dark.  If  he  could  so 
abandon  and  deceive  one  trusting  girl,  he  could 
another.  I  fear  I  have  left  black  work  behind  me, 
instead  of  one  innocent  girl  to  save,  there  may  be 
two." 

"  I  hope  they  do  not  love  him  as  I  did,"  said 
Nettie. 

"  I  do  not  think  Marcia  loves  him  deeply,"  said 
Vance.  "  I  feel  sure  she  does  not.  I  can't  fathom 
the  mystery  of  her  consenting  to  marry  him,  unless 
it  is  to  please  her  father,  whose  heart  is  set  on  the 
match.  But  Myra,  no  doubt  does  love  him,  and 
she  has  not  force  of  character  sufficient  to  bear  such 
a  blow  as  his  desertion  —  she  would  either  go  mad 
or  die.  I  must  get  home  as  speedily  as  I  can, 
before  anything  happens  there.  " 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?"  asked  Nettie. 

"  Well  —  I  can  hardly  say,  as  yet.  I  have  tres- 
passed so  long  upon  your  time  that  I  feel  I  ought 
to  go  now.  Let  us  think  it  all  over  tonight,  and  in 
the  morning  we  may  have  concluded  what  to  do." 

Vance  then  rose,  wished  her  a  kind  goodnight 
and  took  his  leave,  promising  to  return  early  on 
Monday  morning. 

He  walked  back  to  the  hotel,  his  heart  filled  at 
once  with  indignation,  wonder  and  thankfulness. 
He  had  been  led  by  a  way  he  knew  not.  Far  and 
near  he  had  sought  for  Nettie  LeDru,  without  suc- 
cess. When  lo!  what  he  supposed  to  be  an  un- 
lucky blunder  had  led  him  to  her  very  door. 


ONE   STEP   HINDERED.  133 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

ONE   STEP    HINDERED. 

"But  shrink  not  thou,  when  tyrant  wrong 
O'er  humble  suffering  dares  deride  thee, 
With  lightning  step  and  clarion  tone  ; 
Go  take  the  field  with  Heaven  beside  thee !" 

— Mrs.  Osgood. 

ON  Monday  morning  Nettie  was  up  very  early 
and  had  her  breakfast  all  over  and  her  little  cottage 
tidy  as  a  new  pin,  before  Vance  could  arrive. 

Little  Willie  was  neatly  dressed  and  sent  to  the 
shop  where  she  had  been  working  to  tell  them  that 
his  mamma  could  not  come  that  morning. 

Then  Nettie  sat  down  to  wait  for  Vance,  her 
hands,  usually  so  busy,  idle  in  her  lap,  her  brain 
all  in  a  whirl. 

She  was  so  disturbed  by  what  had  happened  that 
she  had  not  slept  one  moment  all  night.  She  had 
been  overworking  herself  for  some  time,  and  was 
illy  fitted  to  bear  any  added  strain.  So  when 
Vance  presented  himself  she  met  him  with  aching 
heart,  throbbing  brain  and  quivering  nerves. 

Vance  could  not  fail  to  notice  her  appearance. 
He  said,  kindly : 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  well  this  morning,  Mrs. 
LeDru." 

"  Not  very,"  answered  Nettie.  "  I  have  not  been 
well  for  some  time.  " 

"  And  how  is  Master  Willie,"  asked  Vance,  hold- 
ing his  hand  out  to  the  little  fellow,  who  hao^just 
come  in  from  his  errand. 

Willie  shyly  advanced  and  held  out  his  chubby 
fist,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  Willie,  can't  you  talk,"  asked  his  mamma. 

"  Of  course  he  can,"  said  Vance.  "  Come  and 
make  friends,  Willie." 

He   drew   his   handsome   gold    watch    from   his 


134  ONE   STEP    HINDERED. 

pocket  and  Master  Willie  was  immediately  con- 
quered. He  was  soon  seated  on  Vance's  knee, 
contentedly  playing  with  the  watch. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  him  troublesome,"  said 
Nettie. 

"  No  danger  of  that,  is  there,  Willie?  "  said 
Vance,  smiling.  "  I  am  very  fond  of  children,  they 
never  trouble  me.  He  appears  to  be  a  hearty  little 
chap,  Mrs.  LeDru." 

"  Yes,  he  has  always  been  so,"  said  Nettie.  "  But 
I  do  not  think  he  is  as  robust  as  usual  this  fall." 

"  A  good  rest  and  change  would  benefit  both  of 
you,"  remarked  Vance. 

"  Yes,  I  have  nodoubtof  that,"  answered  Nettie, 
with  a  sad  smile,  which  Vance  quite  understood. 

"  How  would  you  like  a  run  over  our  Kentucky 
hills,  Master  Willie,"  askeq^  Vance  of  the  little  chap 
on  his  knee. 

"  First-rate!  "  answered  Willie. 

"  Will  you  go  home  with  me,  and  see  the  pretty 
little  colts  and  calves  and  pigs?  "  asked  Vance. 

"  Ride  on  train,  too?  "  asked  Willie. 

"  Yes,  ride  on  the  train,  too,  Willie.  Would  you 
like  to  go?  " 

"  'Course  I  would!     If  mamma'll  go,  mister." 

"  Certainly,  she  must  go,"  said  Vance.  "Mrs. 
LeDru,  I  am  sure  the  journey  would  do  you  good, 
and  I  can  assure  you  that  you  will  find  kind  hearts 
at  the  end  of  it." 

"  I  do  not  need  to  be  assured  of  that,  Mr.  Doug- 
las, if  they  are  all  like  you.  But  it  is  beyond  the 
range  of  possibilities  with  me,"  said  Nettie. 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  Vance.  "  Seriously,  dear 
Mrs.  LeDru,  I  have  thought  over  a  dozen  plans  in 
these  peculiar  circumstances,  and  I  see  but  one  way 
really  available.  That  is,  that  you  and  your  boy 
return  to  Kentucky  with  me,  and  face  Louis  LeDru 
in  the  presence  of  my  uncle  and  cousin." 


ONE    STEP   HINDERED.  135 

Nettie  turned  white  and  sat  silent.  Vance  went 
on: 

"  It  will  be  a  sharp  trial  for  you,  I  know.  But  it 
always  requires  courage  and  moral  bravery  when 
one  attempts  to  make  right  triumph  over  wrong, 
and  you  will  have  warm,  true  friends  to  sustain  you, 
then  and  afterward.  Don't  you  think  you  could 
make  the  effort,  Mrs.  LeDru?" 

"  I  feel  sure  it  would  be  the  best  plan  to  follow," 
said  Nettie,  very  unsteadily. 

"  I  am  satisfied  on  that  point,"  said  Vance.  "  If 
I  go  home  alone,  I  hardly  see  how  we  can  prove 
anything,  except  by  a  very  tedious  process.  But 
if  I  can  present  you  and  Willie,  the  living  proof 
will  be  incontrovertible.  Indeed,  Mrs.  LeDru,  I 
feel  that  my  cousin's  future  may  depend  on  your 
action  now.  I  entreat  you  to  do  us  this  great  kind- 
ness for  her  sake." 

Nettie  was  sobbing  so  she  could  not  speak,  by 
this  time. 

V  ance's  own  voice  quivered  as  he  continued:  "  I 
am  sure  you  will  make  some  sacrifice  to  save  her 
from  the  disgrace  of  marrying  a  man  who  has 
already  a  wife.  And,  there  is  another  point — -J 
think  it  very  likely  —  nay,  certain,  that  by  thus 
suddenly  surprising  him,  we  may  obtain  from  him 
your  certificate,  and  thus  prove  your  position,  not 
only  by  his  acknowledgment,  but  in  law." 

"  Mr.  Douglas,  I  would  move  Heaven  and  earth 
to  do  that,  for  Willie's  sake!"  said  Nettie,  fer- 
vently. 

"  Then  you  will  go  back  to  Kentucky  with  me?" 

Nettie's  face  crimsoned,  and  she  seemed  greatly 
embarrassed  Vance  quickly  comprehended  the 
case,  and  to  relieve  her,  he  added,  frankly: 

"  Of  course,  as  I  ask  you  to  take  the  long  journey 
for  my  benefit,  I  shall  assume  the  expense." 

"  I  will  confess,"    said  Nettie,  her  fair  face  still 


136  ONE  STEP  HINDERED. 

crimson,  "  that  my  only  reason  for  hesitating  was 
on  account  of  the  cost.  I  have  really  not  the 
means." 

"  The  more  shame  to  Louis,  then,"  cried  Vance, 
indignantly,  "  to  leave  you  with  nothing,  while  he 
rolls  in  wealth!  But,"  he  added  more  gaily,  "  we'll 
bring  that  young  gentleman  to  his  senses.  And, 
meantime,  I  shall  be  your  banker. " 

"  I  deeply  appreciate  your  kindness,"  said  Nettie. 
"  But  I  dislike  very  much  to  be  under  such  great 
obligations." 

"  Don't  think  of  it  in  that  way!  "  interrupte^. 
Vance,  hastily.  "  The  obligation  is  altogether  on 
the  other  side.  Oh,  Mrs.  LeDru,  don't  you  know 
that  my  uncle  or  myself  would  either  of  us  gladly 
spend  ten,  yes,  a  hundred  times  all  this  will  cost,  to 
save  Marcia  from  life-long  misery?  Never  mention 
"  obligations  "  to  me!  It  is  you  to  whom  we  are 
indebted." 

Nettie  could  not  restrain  her  tears  again.  Willie, 
who  had  been  a  dissatisfied  observer  all  this  time, 
now  slipped  down  from  Vance's  knee,  and  said, 
indignantly, 

"  Mister,  if  you  des'  come  here  to  make  my 
mamma  cwy,  you  can  des'  go  off  again,  right 
away!  " 

Vance  smiled  at  the  little  fellow's  earnestness, 
and  said,  "  That's  right,  Willy,  stand  up  for  mamma! 
But  she  is  only  crying  because  she  is  going  to  be 
happy  now,  and  we  won't  let  her  have  any  more 
trouble." 

"  Don't  see  no  use  in  cwying,  den!  "  says  Willie. 
"  111  go  play  with  Johnny  Warner,  can  I  mamma?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  run  along." 

Off  went  Master  Willie,  glad  to  get  out  of  a  scene 
which  was  evidently  not  at  all  to  his  taste. 

"Now,  Mrs.  LeDru,"  said  Vance,  turning  to 
Nettie.  "  I  want  you  allow  me  to  provide  for  you 


ONE  STEP   HINDERED.  137 

as  freely  as  you  would  allow  your  brother,  until  we 
reach  your  husband,  and  accept  willingly,  whatever 
I  offer  you.  Will  you  promise  to  do  so?" 

"  I  should  show  myself  very  ungrateful  if  I  did 
not,"  said  Nettie.  "I  never  expected  Heaven  to 
send  me  such  friends  Yes,  I  will  accept  your 
kindness,  in  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  offered,  as  a 
loan  to  be  repaid  in  the  future,  whenever  I  am 
able  " 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  Vance,  smiling,  "  \ve 
won't  fall  out  over  that.  Now  the  question  is  — 
How  soon  can  you  be  ready  to  go?  I  suppose  you 
will  need  preparations  for  traveling,  all  ladies  do, 
and  you  had  better  arrange  your  affairs  here  for  an 
indefinite  stay.  I  only  stipulate  that  the  time  be 
as  short  as  possible." 

"  Well,"  said  Nettie,  "  this  is  Monday  —  I  can  be 
ready  for  the  journey  by  to-day  week.  Will  that 
do?" 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Vance.  "  If  we  start  from 
here  Monday  morning,  leaving  New  Haven  in  the 
afternoon,  we  shall  reach  Frankfort  by  Thursday, 
two,  perhaps  three  weeks  before  the  expected 
wedding —  I  believe  the  day  is  not  set  yet.  Yes, 
that  will  be  time  enough.  And  let  me  assure  you, 
Mrs.  LeDru,  you  will  not  have  cause  to  regret  go- 
ing among  Kentucky  folks." 

"  Not  if  they  are  all  like  you,"  said  Nettie, 
warmly. 

"  Most  of  them  are  a  great  deal  better,"  said 
Vance,  laughingly. 

"  There  is  one  point  I  would  like  to  speak  about," 
said  Nettie. 

"  Well,  do  so,  most  freely." 

"  It  is  this,  then.  You  know,  in  a  village  like 
this,  everybody  knows  all  about  everybody  else. 
I  have  neighbors  here,  who  have  always  been  very 
kind  to  me,  and  seemed  to  think  well  of  me. 


138  ONE   STEP   HINDERED. 

When  it  becomes  known  that  a  stranger  has  been 
here,  and  that  I  am  going  away  with  him,  there 
will  be  many  questions  asked.  Now,  what  shall  I 
tell  them?  " 

"  I  declare,  I  never  thought  of  that!  "  said  Vance. 
"  Well,  why  not  tell  just  the  truth  —  for  it  certainly 
is  the  truth  —  that  some  of  your  father's  friends  in 
Kentucky  have  sent  for  you  to  come  out  and  stay 
with  them?  I  certainly  was  your  father's  friend, 
and  when  my  uncle  visited  me  in  college,  he 
esteemed  Professor  Burke  above  all  the  other 
learned  members  of  the  faculty.  And  you  will 
find  warm  friends  in  all  of  us,  when  you  get  there.." 

"  That  is  what  I  will  tell  them,  then,"  said  Nettie. 

After  a  little  further  consultation  Vance  took 
his  leave,  first  placing  in  Nettie's  hands  a  roll  of 
bills  amounting  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  that 
she  might  prepare  for  the  journey. 

She  told  him  she  would  go  over  to  New  Haven 
to  do  her  shopping,  which  Vance  approved  of,  as 
better  things  could  be  purchased  there  for  less 
money  than  they  would  cost  in  Willowbank. 

The  rest  of  that  day  Nettie  devoted  to  closing  up 
her  engagement  in  the  dressmaker's  shop,  and  to 
affairs  at  home,  deciding  to  run  over  to  New  Haven 
on  Tuesday. 

She  did  not  care  to  take  Willy  with  her;  so, 
early  next  morning,  she  ran  in  to  see  her  next-door 
neighbor,  Mrs.  Warner,  and  get  her  to  take  charge 
of  him  for  the  day. 

"  Why,  to  be  sure!  Send  him  right  over,"  said 
Mrs.  Warner.  "  He  will  be  company  for  Johnny, 
and  you  know  they're  always  together,  anyhow. 
Send  him  right  along,  and  we'll  take  good  care  of 
him;  so  you  needn't  be  the  least  bit  uneasy,  Mrs, 
LeDru.  And  so  you're  goin'  out  West?  Well, 
well!  that  does  beat  all!  But  I'm  main  glad  of  it! 
It'll  do  you  a  sight  of  good!  Do  you  know,  Mrs, 


ONE   STEP    HINDERED.  139 

LeDru,  I've  often  wondered  why  some  of  your  folks 
didn't  come  and  look  you  up.  I  think  it's  time 
they  did,  and  I'm  real  glad  they've  done  it  at  last. 
I  see  the  young  man  that's  come  after  you,  goin' 
into  your  house,  yesterday.  Nice,  fine-looking 
chap  he  is,  too!  Relation  o' yours?  " 

"  No,  no  relation,"  answered  Nettie. 

"  Oh!  a  very  old  friend,  then,  I  suppose?  "  in- 
quired the  kind-hearted  neighbor,  who  felt  a  friendly 
interest  in  the  lonely,  young  widow,  as  they  thought 
her. 

"  Yes,  an  old  friend.  I  knew  him  before  I  was 
married.  He  was  in  school  with  my  husband," 
said  Nettie,  glad  to  think  she  could  sav  that  much 
truly. 

She  hastened  home,  and  was  at  trie  depot,  ready 
for  the  first  train.  Vance  was  at  the  depot  to  see 
her  off,  but  he  did  not  offer  to  escort  her,  thinking 
she  would  prefer  to  go  alone,  as  she  really  did. 

In  New  Haven  she  went  to  the  principal  stores 
and  bought  such  things  as  she  needed  for  Willie 
and  herself  to  make  a  good  appearance  among 
strangers.  Nettie  had  excellent  taste  and  judg- 
ment, so  she  purchased  only  good  articles,  which, 
thanks  to  Vance's  generosity,  she  wac  able  to  do. 

She  bought  as  much  as  she  could  ready-made,  to 
save  time  in  making  them,  and  took  her  seat  in  the 
train  for  home  without  having  met  one  person  with 
whom  she  had  formerly  been  acquainted. 

Vance  was  at  the  depot  to  carry  such  parcels  as 
she  had  not  sent  over  by  express.  But  when  they 
reached  the  cottage,  he  declined  to  go  in,  seeing 
how  weary  and  ill  she  looked,  advising  her  to  take 
a  light  supper  and  go  to  bed  at  once.  Advice 
that  Nettie  was  ready  to  take,  for  she  felt  as  though 
body,  nerves  and  brain  were  all  giving  way  under 
the  intense  strain  of  the  last  few  days. 

She  rose  next  morning  still  more  oppressed  with 


I4O  ONE  STEP   HINDERED. 

lassitude  and  weariness,  but  made  a  strong  effort 
not  to  yield  to  it,  but  go  on  preparing  for  her  jour- 
ney. 

It  occurred  to  Vance  that  while  he  was  waiting 
for  Nettie  he  had  better  go  over  to  New  York  and 
purchase  the  jewels  Squire  Douglas  had  commis- 
sioned him  to  get  for  Marcia 

He  called  upon  Nettie  and  told  her  where  and 
why  he  was  going,  promising  to  return  on  Saturday, 
so  they  could  start  for  Kentucky  on  Monday  morn- 
ing. 

Poor  Nettie  worked  on  until  Thursday.  Then 
her  aching  head  and  feverish  limbs  would  no  longer 
support  her  trembling  body,  and  she  put  aside  her 
work  and  went  to  bed. 

When  Vance  returned  on  Saturday  he  found  her 
tossing  upon  her  couch,  delirious  with  fever. 

This  was,  indeed,  a  serious  misfortune.  But  the 
doctor  assured  Vance  that  he  thought  he  could 
break  the  fever  and  have  her  well  enough  to  travel 
in  a  few  days. 

Of  course,  there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait,  and 
show  her  all  the  kindness  his  generous  nature 
prompted. 

While  he  waits  and  watches,  growing  in  favor 
every  day  with  the  warm-hearted  neighbors  who 
came  daily  to  nurse  and  care  for  the  sick  lady,  we 
will  step  backward,  and  see  how  things  prospered 
in  "  the  old  Kentucky  home." 


IN   KENTUCKY.  141 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

HOW   IT   FARED   IN   KENTUCKY. 

"And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage  bell." 

Byron. 

THE  preparations  for  Maggie  Leslie's  wedding 
went  on  bravely.  The  neighbors  for  miles  round 
were  bidden,  and  the  Frankfort  merchants  did  a 
thriving  trade  in  articles  purchased  for  the  first 
wedding,  with  an  eye  to  their  being  of  service  at 
the  second  one,  expected  soon  to  occur  at  Douglas 
Hall. 

They  were  very  busy  there,  too.  That  is, 
everybody  except  Marcia.  Aunt  Madeline,  at 
least,  noticed  that  Marcia  did  nothing,  often  sitting 
for  hours  with  her  hands  idly  folded  in  her  lap,  and 
a  far-away  look  in  her  brown  eyes.  And  when 
she  chanced  suddenly  to  raise  them  on  being  spoken 
to,  kind  Aunt  Maddy  saw  that  their  expression 
was  exceedingly  mournful. 

It  worried  the  good  old  lady,  and  one  day  she 
said  to  Marcia:  "  My  dear,  are  you  quite  happy?" 

"  Why,  certainly,  aunty!  Why  shouldn't  I  be?" 
was  the  instant  response,  with  a  bright  look. 

And  Miss  Madeline  comforted  herself,  saying, 
"  I  suppose  it  was  only  my  fancy.  But  I  don't  like 
to  see  that  look  in  a  young  girl's  eyes.  It  either 
betokens  sorrow  or — an  early  death!" 

Miss  Madeline  did  not  speak  to  her  brother  of 
any  change  in  Marcia,  and  he  did  not  seem  to  see 
any. 

Florence  did  —  but  neither  could  she  read  the 
riddle,  as  yet. 

They  did  not  hear  from  Vance  at  Douglas  Hall, 
until  he  went  to  New  York.  He  dared  not  write 
from  New  Haven,  lest  Louis  LeDru  should  chance 
to  see  the  post-mark,  and  become  suspicious. 


142  IN    KENTUCKY. 

From  New  York  he  wrote  a  few  lines,  saying  his 
business  had  detained  him,  but  he  hoped  to  be  able 
to  return  the  following  week. 

We  know  that  when  he  returned  to  New  Haven 
he  found  his  plans  thwarted  by  Nettie's  illness. 
But  he  could  not  write  from  New  Haven,  excepting 
to  Florence. 

Even  to  her  he  dared  not  write  full  particulars, 
lest  some  mischance  reveal  the  secret.  He  wrote 
that  he  had  all  needed  proofs,  and  would  bring 
them  as  speedily  as  possible,  and  undoubtedly 
overthrow  Mr.  Louis's  plans. 

Florence  dared  not  mention  her  correspondence 
with  him,  even  to  give  his  family  the  comfort  of 
knowing  that  he  was  safe  and  well. 

Marcia  felt  his  absence  deeply.  Day  by  day  she 
tried  not  to  miss  him  so  much  —  tried  to  remember 
that  he  was  Florry's  lover,  not  hers.  But  still  she 
longed  with  an  inexpressible  longing,  to  see  him 
once  more. 

She  had  no  idea  of  breaking  faith  with  Louis, 
yet  it  frightened  her  to  see  that  he  grew  daily 
more  disagreeable  to  her.  She  could  not  see  any- 
thing in  him  to  object  to,  yet  she  felt  that  every 
day  she  loved  him  less.  Her  heart  sank  at  the 
thought  of  a  union  with  him,  but  what  reason  could 
she  give  for  breaking  her  plighted  word?  And 
since  she  could  never  belong  to  the  only  one  she 
could  care  for,  what  odds  who  she  married,  so  her 
father  was  pleased. 

She  watched  the  preparations  for  her  bridal  go 
on  with  very  little  interest,  and  every  day  her  great 
eyes  grew  more  mournful  in  expression. 

Maggie's  wedding  day,  the  twelfth,  was  very  near 
at  hand,  Marcia's  had  been  expected  a  month  or 
six  weeks  later,  but  Mr.  Louis  was  anxious  to  have 
it  come  off  earlier. 

There  was  a  reason  for  his  haste  bevond  love  for 


IN  KENTUCKY.  143 

his  expectant  bride.  The  drooping  state  of  Myra 
Leslie's  health  had  become  evident  to  every  one, 
and  her  family  were  very  anxious  about  her.  All 
the  old  grannies  in  the  neighborhood  predicted 
that  she  was  going  into  a  galloping  consumption. 

But  the  skilled  physician  who  came  out  from 
Lexington  to  see  her,  declared  that  there  was  no 
reason  for  alarm,  she  had  only  taken  cold,  and  would 
soon  be  all  right  again. 

Louis  LeDru  knew  —  Sam,  Lina  and  Florence 
suspected  that  Myra  was  drooping  with  a  broken 
heart,  but  not  one  of  these  four  expressed  an  opinion 
regarding  the  matter. 

Doubtless  it  influenced  Mr.  Louis  in  his  desire 
for  haste.  So  did  a  little  incident  which  took  place 
at  Douglas  hall  about  this  time. 

Florence  had  no  love  for  Louis  —  she  knew  him 
to  be  a  villain  as  well  as  if  Vance  had  told  her  the 
whole  story.  But  of  course  she  treated  him  with 
perfect  courtesy,  when  she  met  him. 

Florence  was  spending  the  day  at  the  hall,  with 
Marcia,  who  often  invited  her.  Marcia  had  always 
loved  the  noble  girl.  She  loved  her  even  better 
now,  because  she  believed  that  Vance  loved  her. 
Indeed,  the  whole  family,  including  the  sharp- 
sighted  Mr.  Louis,  were  under  the  same  mist::!- :••, 
just  now  —  that  of  believing  Vance  and  Florence 
engaged. 

The  two  girls  were  in  the  parlor,  with  Louis, 
when  a  message  was  brought  to  Marcia  that  the 
dressmakers  wanted  her,  up-stairs. 

When  she  rose  to  obey  the  summons,  Florence, 
having  no  fancy  for  a  tete-a-tete  with  Mr.  Louis, 
rose  also,  saying,  "  Let  me  go,  too." 

"  Certainly,  if  Louis  will  excuse  us  both,"  said 
Marcia. 

"  I  was  about  asking  you  to  excuse  me  for  a  little 


144  T*   KENTUCKY. 

while,"  said  LeDru.  "  I  think  I  will  indulge  in  a 
short  ride  before  dinner." 

"  Then  you  will  not  miss  us,"  said  Marcia,  archly. 

As  they  left  the  room,  Florence  drew  her  hand- 
kerchief from  her  pocket.  A  white  paper  fluttered 
out  with  the  bit  of  cambric,  and  fell  to  the  floor. 

Florence  did  not  see  it,  but  Mr.  Louis  did.  He 
stooped,  picked  it  up,  and  was  about  gallantly  to 
restore  it  when  his  eye  chanced  to  catch  a  postmark 
upon  it.  He  quietly  waited  until  the  girls  had  left 
the  room,  and  then  looked  at  it. 

It  was  an  empty  envelope,  addressed  to  Miss 
Florence  Edwards,  and  postmarked  New  Haven, 
Conn.  And  Mr.  Louis  recognized  the  handwriting 
as  that  of  Vance  Douglas. 

"  In  the  devil's  name!"  quoth  Mr.  Louis,  invok- 
ing his  master  and  guide.  "  What  is  he  doing 
there?  Now  I  wonder  what  that  means?  I'll  ven- 
ture the  Squire  doesn't  know  where  he  is!  Why 
didn't  Miss  Sly-boots  tell  it,  when  she  knows  they 
are  anxious  for  news  from  him?  Now  I'll  put 
Marcia  up  to  a  thing  or  two!  What  if  he  makes 
discoveries  there?  Pshaw,  he  can't!  There's  no 
danger.  But,  all  things  considered,  it  may  as  well 
be  best  to  make  matters  safe  before  he  comes  home. 
Wonder  if  I  can't  manage  it?  Business  letters  took 
him  off — why  shouldn't  they  take  me,  too?  I'll 
think  of  it.  I'll  not  give  missy  this  envelope,  (wish 
to  God  the  letter  was  in  it! ),  but  put  it  where  she'll 
find  it." 

He  went  back  to  the  chair  in  which  Fiorry  hrd 
been  sitting,  and  dropped  the  envelope  where  it 
had  first  fallen,  under  the  edge  of  the  rocker 

Then  he  went  out  to  keep  the  engagement,  which 
was  not  a  lonely  ride,  inasmuch  as  he  only  rode  as 
far  as  the  woods  on  the  shore  just  below  River 
View,  where  he  dismounted,  tied  his  horse  to  a 
tree,  and  disappeared  in  the  grove,  where  a  blue- 


IN   KENTUCKY.  14$ 

eyed  girl  was  waiting  for  him  with  a  sorrowful 
heart. 

It  chanced  that  Florry  had  received  Vance's  last 
letter  that  morning,  just  as  she  was  starting  for  the 
Hall.  She  had  hurriedly  glanced  over  it,  and 
slipped  it  into  her  pocket,  to  re-read  during  the 
day,  not  even  taking  time  to  put  it  into  the  envel- 
ope. Lucky  carelessness!  which  saved  Louis  from 
reading  the  letter  which  would  inevitably  put  him 
on  the  track. 

Florence  came  back  into  the  parlor  before  Mar- 
cia  did,  and  then  she  saw  the  envelope  lying  close 
to  her  chair.  She  quickly  picked  it  up,  and  her 
face  flushed  as  she  saw  what  it  was. 

"  How  careless  I  was  to  drop  it!"  she  said  to 
herself.  "  What  if  Louis  had  picked  it  up?  How 
glad  I  am  I  found  it  myself!  I'll  make  sure  it 
doesn't  drop  again!" 

She  swiftly  drew  the  letter  from  her  pocket,  put 
it  into  the  envelope,  and  slipped  it  into  her  bosom 
for  safekeeping,  never  dreaming  that  already  the 
envelope  had  been  in  Louis's  curious  hand,  with 
its  tell-tale  address. 

They  were  anxious,  at  the  old  Hall,  for  Vance's 
return  in  time  for  Maggie's  wedding. 

At  the  supper  table,  the  day  after  Florry's  visit, 
the  Squire  said,  for  the  tenth  time,  at  least: 

"  I  wonder  why  our  boy  doesn't  come?  Or,  at 
least,  write  to  us." 

"  I'm  afraid  he  is  sick,"  said  Aunt  Madeline.  "  It 
isn't  like  Vance  to  stay  so. '' 

Marcia  said  nothing,  nor  did  Louis,  just  then; 
but  as  they  walked  to  the  parlor,  after  supper,  he 
said: 

"  Marcia,  did  it  never  occur  to  you  to  ask  Miss 
Edwards  for  news  of  Vance?  " 

"  Why,  no,"  answered  Marcia.  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose she  hears  from  him?  Oh,  I  think  not,  Louis! 


146  MAGGIE'S  WEDDING. 

She  knows  how  anxious  we  are;  if  she  had  news, 
she  would  surely  tell  us.  " 

"  Nevertheless,"   said    Mr.    Louis,    coolly,   "  if  I 
were  you,  I  would  ask  her. " 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
MAGGIE'S  WEDDING. 

"  We  two  are  so  united,  so  happily  allied, 
That  blissful  are  the  moments  when  we  are  side  by  side. " 

Swiss  Song. 

THE  elegant  parlors  of  the  Leslie  mansion  were 
brilliant  with  lights,  and  odorous  with  flowers.  At 
an  early  hour  they  were  filled  with  "fair  women  and 
brave  men." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leslie  stood  at  the  head  of  the 
long  front  parlor  to  receive  their  guests.  Squire 
Douglas  and  Aunt  Madeline  were  there;  so  was 
Louis,  with  Marcia,  in  whose  brown  eyes  the  mourn- 
ful shadow  yet  rested.  And  every  moment,  in  that 
gay  throng,  her  thoughts  were  with  him  who  was 
far  away,  off  among  the  New  England  hills,  walk- 
ing restlessly  from  the  hotel  to  the  little  cottage 
where  Nettie  lay  tossing  upon  her  couch. 

How  it  would  have  comforted  Vance,  could  he 
have  known  of  the  tender,  anxious  thoughts  which 
followed  him  that  night! 

And  now  a  whisper  ran  through  the  rooms  — 
"They're  coming!"  And  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Manning  rose  as  the  bridal  cortege  descended  the 
stairs  and  entered  the  parlors. 

Maggie  had  finally  decided  to  have  two  brides- 
maids, so  Florence  and  Dick  Leslie  came  in  first. 
Florry  was  in  pale  pink  silk  with  carmine  flowers, 
which  were  very  becoming  to  her. 

Myra  came   next  with   Doctor   Burnett.     Myra 


MAGGIE'S  WEDDING.  147 

was  in  pale  blue  silk  trimmed  with  forget-me-nots, 
and  looked  almost  too  lovely.  The  flush  on  her 
cheek  was  unnaturally  brilliant,  and  there  was 
something  strange  in  her  manner.  Several  times 
during  the  evening  Florry  glanced  at  Louis,  and 
found  him  watching  Myra  with  a  keen  yet  furtive 
gaze.  Maggie  and  Lionel  came  last,  and  in  spite 
of  Maggie's  fears  of  the  unbecoming  white  robes, 
she  was  a  beautiful  bride  and  justified  the  proud, 
loving  glances  which  Lionel  cast  upon  her. 

The  couples  ranged  themselves  in  due  order, 
Maggie  and  Lionel  stepped  between,  and  the  min- 
ister stood  before  them. 

He  pronounced  the  ceremony  in  brief,  impressive 
tones,  and  a  few  moments  transformed  wild  Maggie 
Leslie  into  sedate  Mrs  Lionel  Edwards. 

Then  came  congratulations,  and  after  that  the 
supper,  which  was  prolonged  until  all  were  satisfied. 

After  supper  came  dancing.  No  one  seemed 
gayer  than  Myra,  and  Florence  shuddered  as  she 
heard  her  laugh  ring  out. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  before  Marcia  found 
an  opportunity  to  ask  Florence  if  she  had  heard 
from  Vance. 

"  I  —  why,  yes,  I  have,"  said  Florry,  hesitating 
to  tell. 

"  Do  you  know  when  he  is  coming  home?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not.  If  I  did  I  would  surely  tell 
you,  Marcia." 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  is  now,  Florence?  " 

Florry  dared  not  say  "  New  Haven,"  Marcia, 
not  knowing  it  to  be  a  secret  would  be  sure  to  tell 
Louis. 

"  He  was  in  New  York,"  said  she.  "  I  do  not 
know  whether  he  is  there  yet  or  not.  He  said  he 
had  business  there  to  attend  to." 

"  Yes,  papa  had  one  letter  saying  the  same,"  said 
Marcia,  signing. 


148  MAGGIE'S  WEDDING. 

When  the  guests  left  River  View,  as  they  were 
going  home  Marcia  told  Louis  of  her  short  conver- 
sation with  Florry.  And  Mr.  Louis  knew  that 
Florence  had  not  told  Marcia  all  she  might  have 
done.  There  was  reason  for  keeping  his  visit  to 
New  Haven  a  secret,  then.  That  it  at  all  con- 
cerned Jiiin  was  not  likely,  but  Mr.  Louis  would 
have  given  much  to  know  what  it  was. 

It  gave  him  anradditional  reason  for  wishing  to 
hasten  his  own  marriage.  While  to  Marcia  it  was 
one  more  proof  that  Vance  and  Florry  were  be- 
trothed, and  there  was  no  reason  for  her  to  delay 
longer. 

Whatever  might  be  going  on  at  the  North,  Mr. 
LeDru's  case  seemed  to  be  in  a  fair  way  to  prosper 
in  Kentucky.  Lionel  and  Maggie  left  home  for  a 
wedding  tour  of  four  weeks  the  day  after  they  were 
married. 

They  intended  to  return  in  time  for  Marcia's  wed- 
ding. Vance,  also,  would  be  at  home  by  that  time, 
and  the  day  would  soon  be  fixed  upon. 

But  Mr.  Louis  intended  to  be  married  and  gone 
before  Vance  got  home.  He  did  not  mean  to 
return  to  South  Carolina  at  present,  but  a  winter  in 
Florida  would  not  be  a  bad  idea,  if  Marcia  was  his 
companion,  and  he  had  plenty  of  money.  And  the 
Squire  certainly  could  not  object  to  a  lengthy  wed- 
ding tour. 

On  the  Monday  morning  after  Lionel  and  Maggie 
went  away,  the  very  day  on  which  Vance  had 
hoped  to  start  west  with  Nettie,  Mr.  Louis  rode  to 
Frankfort  for  the  mail. 

He  came  back  with  a  very  long  face,  ate  scarcely 
any  dinner,  and  seemed  so  dejected,  that  when,  as 
they  rose  from  the  table,  he  turned  to  Squire  Doug- 
las and  asked  for  a  few  moments'  interview,  the 
good,  old  squire  hastily  said,  "  Yes,  certainly,  cer- 


MAGGIE'S   WEDDING.  149 

tainly,  my  boy!  But  I  do  trust  you  have  received 
no  bad  news." 

Louis  led  the  Avay  to  the  library  before  he 
answered.  When  they  were  alone  he  said,  with  a 
deep,  deep  sigh:  "  I  have  had  news,  sir.  It  rests 
with  yourself  and  Miss  Marcia,  whether  it  is  to  be 
considered  good  or  bad. " 

"  Well!  well!     Explain  yourself,  Louis!" 

"  Sir,  I  received  this  morning  a  letter  concerning 
my  property  in  Florida  which  demands  my  pres- 
ence at  once  —  will  keep  me  there  for  two  or  three 
months  most  likely." 

"  I  was  not  aware  that  you  owned  land  in  Florida, 
Louis." 

"  I  suppose  not,  squire.  I  have  not  been  wont 
to  boast  of  my  possessions." 

The  truth  was  it  had  never  occurred  to  Mr. 
Louis  before  to  say  that  he  had  property  in  Florida, 
simply  because  he  did  not  have  any. 

But  the  honest  old  Squire,  never  doubting  his 
word,  replied: 

"  No,  you  have  been  exceedingly  modest.  More 
so  than  you  need  be  with  us,  my  son." 

"  You  flatter  me,  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Louis, 
humbly. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  boy!  Not  at  all!  Are  you 
obliged  to  leave  us  at  once,  Louis?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  am,  —  unless,  indeed "  and  the 

arch  dissembler  paused  as  if  diffidently. 

"  Go  on,  go  on,  Louis!  "  urged  the  Squire.  "  I 
think  I  understand  you." 

"  Then,  oh  sir!  father!  if  you  and  my  betrothed 
will  only  grant  my  earnest  prayer,"  cried  Mr.  Louis, 
melo-dramatically. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see,"  said  the  Squire,  thoughtfully. 
"  You  object  to  leaving  Marcia?" 

"Oh,  yes  sir!  yes  sir!  indeed  I  do.  It  must 
postpone  our  wedding,  unless  the  wedding  comes 


150  MAGGIES    WEDDING. 

first,  and  what  difference  would  it  make.  We 
should  go  on  our  wedding  trip  in  three  or  four 
weeks,  anyway,  it  is  only  a  few  days  earlier,  Squire 
—  father!  —  that  is  all.  " 

"  Yes,  I  see,  my  son!  Well,  how  long  can  you 
wait?" 

"  Oh,  sir!  the  sooner  we  go,  the  sooner  we  shall 
return." 

"  Certainly.  Well,  send  for  Marcia.  If  she  is 
willing  to  hurry  her  preparations  a  little,  it's  all 
right  with  me." 

"Thank  you,  sir!  oh,  thank  you!"  cried  Louis, 
eagerly  seizing  and  pressing  the  old  gentleman's 
hand.  "  I  consider  my  cause  won,  for  I  almost  know 
I  can  win  Marcia's  consent. " 

Marcia  was  summoned  and  the  case  presented. 

It  seemed  to  her  almost  a  relief  to  be  married  and 
gone  before  Vance  came  home.  It  was  wrong  for 
her  to  love  him  now  —  after  her  marriage  she  would 
surely  be  able  to  forget  him,  and  it  was  but  a  dif- 
ference of  a  few  days,  after  all  —  what  did  it  matter? 
She  readily  consented  to  go  to  Florida,  and  they 
concluded  to  send  out  the  cards  for  Tuesday, 
the  twenty-fourth,  just  a  week  and  one  day,  as 
early,  Marcia  said,  as  they  could  possibly  get 
ready. 

Maggie  would  not  be  at  home,  but  the  Squire 
fervently  hoped  that  Vance  would  be  there. 

Marcia  earnestly  hoped  he  would  not.  So  did 
Louis,  but  for  different  reasons.  However,  Louis 
thought  there  was  no  danger  of  his  arriving  by  that 
time. 


A   MESSAGE   FOR   VANCE.  151 


CHAPTER  XXV, 

A   MESSAGE   FOR   VANCE. 

"  On  the  wings  of  the  wind  I  bid  thee  fly, 
Or  else  thou  wilt  come  too  late ! " 

— Scotch  Son  if. 

THE  cards  were  sent  out  at  once.  Marcia  and 
Louis  rode  over  that  afternoon  to  tell  Florence  and 
Myra,  and  ask  them  to  be  bridesmaids. 

Marcia  would  not  insult  Dick  by  asking  him  to 
be  an  attendant,  nor  allow  Louis  to  do  so.  Doctor 
Burnett  and  Mr.  Harrison  Walters,  a  young  lawyer 
from  Frankfort,  were  asked,  and  consented  to 
serve. 

When  Marcia  told  Myra,  she  answered,  "  Why, 
yes,  certainly  I'll  be  your  bridesmaid.  You  know 
I  promised  I  would. "  And  then  she  burst  into  a 
flood  of  hysterical  laughter,  and  the  next  moment 
was  weeping  bitterly  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

When  Marcia,  much  surprised,  tried  to  soothe 
her,  she  stopped  crying  and  said: 

"  You  really  must  excuse  me,  Marcia,  dear.  I 
haven't  got  over  losing  —  sister  Mag  yet,  you 
know. " 

"  If  it  is  too  hard  for  you  to  stand  at  another 
wedding  so  soon,  I  won't  insist,  dear  Myra,"  said 
Marcia,  very  gently. 

"  Oh,  no,  it  isn't  hard!  Not  hard  at  all,  Marcia. 
I  shall  be  delighted  to  wait  on  you  and — and  Mr. 
LeDru.  Oh,  yes,  you  may  count  on  me.  But  you 
mustn't  mind  if  I  seem  a  little  strange  now  and 
then.  You  see  I'm  not  very  well,  and  I  get  nerv- 
ous sometimes,  and  whenever  I  think  of —  Sister 
Mag,  I  don't  bear  up  very  bravely."  And  she 
laughed  again,  a  hollow,  mirthless  laugh,  which 
made  Marcia  think  of  Dick,  when  she  told  him  she 
could  not  marry  him. 


I$2  A   MESSAGE   FOR   VANCE. 

They  had  been  up-stairs  in  Myra's  room.  As 
they  went  down  to  the  parlor  again,  Marcia  looked 
sharply  at  Myra,  and  when  she  noticed  how  fear- 
fully thin  the  girl  was,  and  how  her  eyes  glittered, 
she  was  deeply  shocked,  and  wondered  how  she 
could  have  been  so  absorbed  in  her  own  affairs  as 
not  to  see  the  change  before. 

Riding  home,  she  spoke  to  Louis  about  it,  and 
expressed  her  surprise  that  Myra  was  taking  Mag- 
gie's marriage  so  hard. 

"  I  should  judge  Miss  Myra,  from  what  little  I 
know  of  her,"  said  Mr.  Louis,  lightly,  "  to  be  rather 
a  fanciful,  weak-minded  young  lady." 

And  then  he  began  to  speak  of  the  beautiful 
autumn  foliage,  something  which  seldom  interested 
Mr.  Louis. 

A  day  or  two  later,  Dick  Leslie  came  over  to  the 
Hall  on  some  errand,  and  Marcia  spoke  to  him 
about  Myra. 

"  There  does  seem  to  be  a  great  change  in  her 
lately.  I  don't  know  what  could  have  caused  it, 
unless  it  was  the  separation  from  Mag,"  said  Dick, 
soberly. 

"  You  will  have  to  be  brother  and  sister  both, 
Dick,"  said  Marcia,  gently. 

"  I  try  to,"  was  Dick's  simple  answer.  "  I  have 
been  as  kind  and  as  tender  as  I  could  with  her.  She 
seems  to  receive  it  all  gratefully,  but  it  does  not 
cheer  her  up  one  bit.  " 

"  It  shows  your  good  heart  to  try,  though,  Dick." 

"  Thank  you,  Marcia.  Sometimes  "  — Dick  hes- 
itated an  instant,  then  went  on — "  I  have  wondered 
if  she  could  care  for  anybody  who  didn't  respond. 
I  should  know  how  to  feel  for  her,  then." 

Marcia  felt  the  warm  color  rising  to  her  cheek, 
but  she  said:  "  I  can't  think  of  any  gentleman  to 
whom  she  has  seemed  attached." 

"  Nor  I.      I  don't  really  suppose   it  is  the  case, 


A   MESSAGE   FOR  VANCE.  153 

either.  There,  you  needn't  blush  so,  Marcia,  I'm 
not  going  to  bring  up  any  old  nonsense.  Of  course, 
I  would  gladly  have  had  things  different,  but  as 
they  can't  be,  I'm  trying  to  be  a  man. " 

"  You  are  acting  nobly,  Dick.  I  honor  you  for 
it." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Dick,  dryly.  Then  added, 
in  a  different  tone,  "  I  shall  come  to  your  wedding, 
Marcia,  and  I  wish  you,  now,  every  happiness." 

"  Thank  you,  Dick." 

"  But  —  Marcia  —  it  would  relieve  my  mind 
mightily  if  you  would  let  me  say  one  thing!  " 

"  Well,  say  it." 

"  Then  I  could  stand  it  better  if  your  future  hus- 
band was  to  be  anybody  else  than  Louis  LeDru.  I 
can't  like  him,  and  I've  tried  hard.  If  it  were  to  be 
your  cousin  Vance,  now " 

"  Oh,  Dick!  Dick!  don't!  don't!"  Marcia  hastily 
flung  up  her  hands  and  gasped  for  breath,  and 
looked  so  white  and  distressed,  that  poor,  unlucky 
Dick  was  quite  confounded.  For  fear  he  should 
say  something  more  unfortunate,  he  hastily  begged 
her  pardon  and  took  his  leave. 

But  Dick  thought  of  the  circumstance  as  he  rode 
home.  And  the  more  he  thought,  the  more  he  was 
sure  that  he  had  made  a  discovery  which  was  a  sur- 
prise to  him.  And  which  got  things  into  such  a 
puzzle  that  Dick  just  gave  it  up  in  despair. 

But  Florence!  When  she  received  the  news.it 
struck  terror  to  her  soul.  Only  a  week!  What  if 
Vance  did  not  come?  But  he  must  come!  She 
must  get  him  word.  Letters  were  too  slow  —  there 
was  only  one  way — to  telegraph. 

She  had  his  address  both  at  New  Haven  and 
Willowbank,  and  she  Decided  to  send  the  despatch 
to  Willowbank.  Providence's  leading,  noble  Florry! 

Vance  was  not  at  New  Haven.  A  message  sent 
there  would  never  have  reached  him. 


154  A    MESSAGE    FOR    VANCE. 

To  despatch  from  Frankfort,  Florry  did  not  dare. 
They  knew  so  many  people  there,  it  might  chance 
to  come  to  Louis's  knowledge  —  that  would  not  do 
to  risk 

So  Florence  suddenly  discovered  that  she  must 
have  some  articles  before  Marcia's  wedding,  which 
she  could  not  find  in  Frankfort,  but  must  go  over 
to  Lexington  to  procure. 

As  Frankfort  people  very  often  went  shopping 
over  in  Lexington,  no  one  thought  anything  odd  of 
her  going. 

She  went,  the  very  next  day  —  on  Tuesday 
morning.  But  from  the  train  she  almost  flew  to  the 
telegraph  office,  and  sent  to  Vance  this  message: 

UNION  OFFICE,  LEXINGTON,  Oct.  17,  18 — 
Vance  Douglas,   Willowbank,  Conn.: 

Come  at  once,  or  you  will  be  too  late.  The  wed- 
ding is  Tuesday,  24.  What  shall  I  do?  Send  answer 
here,  soon  as  possible. 

FLORENCE. 

She  waited  in  the  office  for  nearly  two  hours. 
Then  Vance's  answer  came;  it  read  thus: 

WILLOWBANK,  CONN.  Oct.  17,  18 — 
Florence  Edwards,  Lexington,  Ky.: 

I  will  be  there,  with  his  wife.  If  I  fail  to  arrive 
by  evening,  24th,  tell  my  uncle  all  with  letters. 

VANCE. 

Florence  left  the  office  with  a  lighter  heart. 
Vance  l:new  now, —  he  would  be  there,  if  possi- 
ble. Anyway,  Marcia  was  saved,  for  those  words 
"  with  his  wife  "  had  told  Florence  of  Vance's  entire 
success. 

And  even  if  he  failed  to  get  there  in  time,  and 
the  telling  of  the  secret  devolved  on  her,  she  knew 


A   MESSAGE   FOR   VANCE.  155 

that  when  Squire  Douglas  had  seen  Vance's  letters 
and  the  telegram,  he  would  stop  the  wedding  until 
Vance  came. 

Florence  went  to  a  store  and  purchased  some 
white  kid  gloves,  handkerchiefs  and  rich  ribbon,  as 
her  excuse  for  coming  over  to  Lexington. 

Then  she  entered  a  ladies'  tea  room  and  had  her 
dinner,  and  at  three  o'clock  took  the  cars  for  home, 
hopeful  and  yet  anxious. 

On  went  the  days,  as  quietly  as  if  they  were  not 
fraught  with  the  great  tragedy  of  human  life,  each 
one  bringing  the  wedding-day  nearer. 

Saturday  afternoon,  Florence  made  the  same  dis- 
covery which  Dick  had  done.  Knowing  that  this 
wedding  never  would  take  place,  she  acted  exactly 
as  if  she  thought  it  would,  to  prevent  any  suspi- 
cion. 

She  went  over,  that  afternoon,  to  consult  Marcia 
on  some  arrangement  of  dress.  In  the  hall  she 
met  Aunt  Madeline,  who  told  her  to  go  right  in, 
and  she  would  find  Marcia  in  the  back  parlor. 
Thinking  playfully  to  take  her  by  surprise,  Florence 
opened  the  door  very  softly,  and  saw  a  sight  which 
struck  her  dumb  with  astonishment. 

Marcia  was  there,  on  her  knees  upon  the  floor, 
before  a  small  stand  on  which  a  photograph  of 
Vance  in  a  velvet  frame  rested  against  a  gilt  easel. 

Marcia's  back  was  to  the  door,  but  Florence 
could  see  that  she  was  weeping  and  sobbing  pas- 
sionately, and  pressing  kisses  upon  the  senseless 
picture,  in  an  agony  of  distress  and  despair. 

Awed  and  troubled  to  the  heart,  Florry  softly 
closed  the  door,  and  swiftly  passed  out  of  the  house, 
without  speaking  to  any  one,  or  doing  her  errand. 

But  she  could  read  the  riddle  now  —  she  held 
the  key.  This  deep  grief  in  a  light-hearted  girl 
like  Marcia  was  not  caused  by  a  temporary  parting 


156  THE    UNBIDDEN    GUEST   ARRIVES. 

with  her  cousin  —  it  was  the  evidence  of  a  deeper 
feeling. 

"  I  always  wanted  her  to  love  Vance,  and  now  I 
know  she  does,"  said  Florry,  as  she  hastened  out. 
"  Why  she  has  promised  to  marry  Louis,  loving 
Vance,  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell!  But  I  shall  tell  him 
this,  when  he  comes,  for  he  has  a  right  to  know. 
Oh!  I  hope  he  will  get  here  in  time!  Heaven  send 
he  may!" 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  UNBIDDEN  GUEST  ARRIVES. 

"  What's  this  you  tell  me  ?  'Tis  a  monstrous  lie !  " 
"  Nay,  by  my  troth,  'tis  true !  " 

Beaumont. 

MONDAY  was  a  very  busy  day  at  the  Hall.  Ow- 
ing to  the  shortness  of  the  time  the  number  of 
guests  invited  was  not  so  large  as  it  would  other- 
wise have  been. 

But  the  Squire,  as  Mr.  Leslie  had  done,  insisted 
oil  an  old-fashioned  evening  wedding,  with  a  grand 
supper  to  follow,  and  Miss  Madeline  was  kept  fully 
occupied  with  her  department.  Marcia  had  strongly 
objected  to  the  Louisville  chefs  being  sent  for,  so 
greatly  to  the  delight  of  Aunt  Nerve  and  old  Hitty, 
the  supper  was  intrusted  to  them  under  Miss  Made- 
line's orders. 

"  I  knowed  it!  "  chuckled  old  Hitty.  "  I  knowed 
Miss  Marshy  wa'nt  goin'  to  hab  no  sich  truck 
heabed  a-top  o'  de  Douglas  -niggahs  !  Reckon  we 
done  show  her  she  ain't  los' nuffin' 'deed  will  we! 
But  I  tell  you,  niggahs,"  and  Aunt  Hitty 's  voice 
was  lowered,  solemnly,  "  dar's  one  ting  mighty 
onlucky  'bout  dish  hyar  weddin'!  Tell  you  good, 
too!  Suah's  you  born,  dat  boun  to  be  so!  " 

"Oh,    good    Lord,    Aunt    Hitty!    what's  dat?" 


THE   UNBIDDEN    GUEST   ARRIVES.  !$/ 

asked  Lina  Leslie,  who  had  been  sent  over  as  extra 
help  for  the  occasion. 

"  It  am  jes'  dis!  "  said  old  Hitty,  solemn  as  an 
owl.  "  Miss  Marshy,  she  don't  know  no  better, 
pore  child!  She  would  'sist  on  habin'  de  same 
bridesmaids  as  Miss  Maggie  had,  an'  I  tell  ye,  nig- 
gahs,  'twon't  do  fur  dem.  Aunt  Nerve  an'  all  de 
ole  niggahs  hyar  tell  ye  de  same,  fur  dey  knows 
dat  de  ole  sayin'is,  ef  a  gal  stan' at  two  weddin's  do 
same  monf,  she  lays  at  a  funer'l,  nex.  One  o'  dem 
gals  g'wine  hab  her  grabe  close  on,  nex  we  hyar. " 

The  next  instant,  before  any  of  the  awe-struck 
negroes  who  heard  Aunt  Hitty  with  deep  respect, 
could  express  an  opinion,  Lina  Leslie  gave  a  wild 
cry,  flung  her  apron  up  over  her  face,  and  ran  out 
of  the  kitchen  weeping  bitterly. 

"  Now  shame  on  ye,  Hitty  Douglas!  "  cried 
Aunt  Nerve,  severely.  "  'Spose  us  ole  ones  does 
know  a  ting  or  two,  dat  any  reason  fo'  skeerin'  de 
young  uns  half  to  death?  You  done  skeart  Liny 
out  o'  her  wits,  talkin'  'bout  her  young  missus!  Ef 
I'se  you  I'd  git  down  to  de  lower  kitchen,  an'  bile 
de  taters  fur  dinner!  " 

Old  Hitty,  considerably  crest-fallen,  went  off, 
mumbling  as  she  went,  "  How  I  know  de  fool  gal 
g'wine  git  skeart!  An'  i£'s  de  trufe,  anyhow!" 

"  Don't  keer  ef 'tis,  all  signs  fails  in  dry  wedder, " 
Aunt  Nerve  called  after  her.  Then  she  restored 
order  and  marched  the  other  negroes  about  their 
business. 

The  next  day  was  the  we,dding-day.  When  it 
dawned  Aunt  Nerve's  "  dry  wedder  "  had  changed. 

No  sun  rose  that  morning.  The  skies  were  gray 
and  lowering,  the  wind  howled  and  moaned,  and 
the  chill  autumn  rain  fell  in  fitful  gusts. 

Every  one  seemed  depressed  by  the  change.  No 
one  spoke  of  it,  but  the  old  adage,  "  Happy  is  the 


158  THE    UNBIDDEN    GUEST   ARRIVES. 

bride  that  the  sun  shines  on,"  was   in  more   minds 
than  would  have  owned  the  fact. 

Aunt  Maddy  was  not  at  all  superstitious,  but  she 
could  not  drive  the  old  saying  from  her  mind  —  it 
haunted  her  persistently. 

In  the  forenoon  she  chanced  to  go  into  Marcia's 
room,  and  found  the  girl  standing  sadly  at  her  win- 
dow, gazing  out  at  the  wet,  dreary  fields. 

"  Marcia!  "  she  said,  gently. 

Marcia  turned  swiftly,  and  without  speaking, 
threw  herself  into  Aunt  Madeline's  protecting  arms, 
and  burst  into  a  passion  of  weeping,  much  too 
bitter  for  a  young  bride  on  her  wedding-day. 

"  Why,  Marcia!  Why,  darling,  don't  cry  so!" 
said  the  good  old  soul,  trying  to  soothe  her  with 
every  endearing  word  and  caress  at  her  command, 
while  tears  rolled  down  her  own  cheeks.  "  What 
makes  you  cry  to-day,  love,  when  you  ought  to  be 
all  happy?  " 

"  Oh,  Aunty,  how  can  I  leave  papa  and  you  and 
my  dear  home?  "  said  Marcia,  raising  herself. 

"  But  you  are  not  leaving  us,  pet,  except  for  a 
short  visit,  and  that  you  have  often  done  before.  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  —  not  as  now  !  "  said  Marcia,  with 
burning  cheeks.  "  But  I  won't  be  so  silly  again, 
Aunty.  Did  you  want  something?  " 

"  Yes,  to  know  if  Jane  had  better  pack  the  dresses 
in  the  north  closet  for  you?  " 

Xo,  I  shall  not  need  them.  We  only  intend  to 
stay  three  or  four  weeks,  the  new  dresses  will  be 
sufficient. " 

Ah,  Marcia !  Louis  LeDru  intended  many  months 
to  pass  by  before  you  returned  to  your  beloved 
home! 

"  Very  well;  I'll  tell  her,"  said  Aunt  Madeline. 
She  went  out,  and  stopped  in  the  hall  to  take  a  cry 
herself. 


THE   UNBIDDEN   GUEST   ARRIVES.  159 

She,  too,  felt  deeply  the  giving  up  her  darling  to 
other  care. 

"  If  I  didn't  know  that  the  child  was  marrying 
Louis  for  love  and  nothing  else,"  sobbed  she,  "  I 
should  think  she  was  being  forced  into  it,  she  seems 
so  unhappy!  She  never  said  a  word  about  leaving 
Vance,  but  oh,  how  I  wish  he  would  come  to-day!" 

She  dried  her  eyes,  and  went  to  the  room  where 
Jane  was  packing,  but  her  good  heart  was  heavy. 

Florence,  too,  was  longing  for  Vance  to  come, 
and  fearing  that  he  would  be  too  late.  She  placed 
all  his  late  letters  and  the  telegram  together  in  a 
box,  ready  to  be  taken  over  to  Squire  Douglas,  if 
Vance  was  not  there  in  time.  But  it  was  a  heavy 
responsibility  for  her  to  interrupt  the  festivities  and 
stop  the  wedding  by  herself,  and  she  dreaded  the 
task,  longing  and  praying  for  Vance  to  come. 

Ah,  noble  Florence,  sorrowing  Marcia,  Vance  is 
coming  as  fast  as  rail  and  steam  can  bring  him,  and 
he  is  not  alone! 

The  dreary,  rainy  day  wore  on  to  its  close, 
bringing  near  the  bridal  hour. 

All  was  ready  at  the  old  Hall.  If  the  rain  con- 
tinued, not  many  of  the  guests  could  get  there.  But 
for  those  who  could,  fires  were  kindled  in  all  the 
spare  rooms,  fresh  towels  laid  out,  ewers  filled,  and 
everything  arranged  for  their  comfort. 

In  the  long  dining-room  the  splendid  bridal  feast 
was  spread,  glittering  with  silver,  glass  and  china, 
snowy  with  fine,  spotless  damask,  and  bright  with 
flowers. 

Toward  evening  the  spirits  of  the  family  seemed 
to  revive,  and  the  house  was  in  a  pleasant  bustle. 
Mr.  Louis  had  been  in  a  grand  humor  all  day,  as 
why  not?  Everything  seemed  to  be  working  splen- 
didly for  him.  By  to-morrow  noon,  he  would  be 
wedded  to  a  fortune  and  safely  away  on  his  journey 
—  he  was  ready  to  laugh  with  glee  at  his  success. 


l6o  THE   UNBIDDEN   GUEST   ARRIVES. 

Ah,  Louis!     He  laughs  best  who  laughs  last. 

The  rain,  too,  ceased  at  dusk,  and  there  would  be 
no  difficulty  in  getting  to  Douglas  Hall,  even  for 
guests  from  a  distance,  except  the  muddy  roads. 

Florence  waited  with  the  most  intense  anxiety 
until  after  the  hour  for  the  evening  trains  to  reach 
Frankfort.  When  her  father,  for  the  second  time, 
asked  her  if  she  had  not  better  order  the  carriage, 
she  felt  obliged  to  say  "yes."  By  this  time,  she 
knew  the  guests  must  be  arriving  at  the  Hall,  and 
Marcia  would  be  waiting  for  her.  If  Vance  did  not 
come  by  the  time  she  was  ready,  he  could  not  come 
at  all  that  night,  and  she  must  not  flinch  from  the 
task  she  had  to  do. 

Her  bridesmaid's  robe  (which  she  did  not  expect 
to  wear)  had  been  already  sent  over  to  the  Hall,  as 
she  was  to  dress  there,  before  assisting  at  the  bride's 
toilet. 

She  attired  herself  for  the  ride  in  plain,  black 
silk,  took  her  cloak  upon  her  arm,  the  box  of  letters 
in  her  hand,  and  went  down-stairs,  pausing  for  one 
glance  down  the  road  through  the  side-lights  of  the 
front  door. 

Oh,  joy!  joy!  In  the  gathering  darkness  she  saw 
a  mud-splashed  carriage  driving  rapidly  down  the 
broad,  graveled  way!  It  stopped  —  a  tall  figure 
sprang  out  —  Florence  flung  open  the  door,  and 
the  next  moment  had  thrown  herself  into  Vance's 
brotherly  arms,  and  given  back  his  greeting  kiss 
with  a  fervent  "  Oh,  thank  the  Lord  for  this!  " 

"  Am  I  in  time?  "  asked  Vance,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper. 

"  Yes,  if  we  hasten.     Where  is  the  lady,  Vance?" 

"  In  the  carriage,  with  her  little  boy,  as  yet." 

"  What!  Is  there  a  child?  "  asked  Florence,  hur- 
riedly. 

"  Yes;  the  brightest  little  chap  you  ever  saw.^ 
Florry,  have  I  done  right  in  bringing  her  here  first?" 


THE    UNBIDDEN   GUEST   ARRIVES.  l6l 

"  Yes,  yes!  perfectly  right!  You  know  she  is 
welcome!  " 

"  I  did  not  think  it  best  to  go  home  until  I  had 
seen  you." 

"  No,  certainly  not.  Vance,  ask  Mrs.  LeDru  in 
right  away;  she  must  be  tired." 

"  She  is;  she  was  sick  when  we  started,  and  we 
have  traveled  night  and  day.  One  moment,  Florry 
—  have  you  a  plan?  " 

"  None,  whatever.     Have  you?" 

"  Only  this  —  what  hour  is  set  ?" 

"  Half-past  eight. " 

"  It  must  be  nearly  six,  now.  I  thought  of  this  — 
to  take  Mrs.  LeDru  and  Willie  in,  tell  your  father 
all,  then  you  and  I  go  at  once  to  the  Hall,  leaving 
them  to  follow  us  in  half  an  hour,  by  which  time  we 
can  prepare  the  way." 

"  Yes.  Your  plan  is  excellent,  Vance;  we  will 
adopt  it.  Mrs.  LeDru  will  have  time  for  some 
refreshment.  I  suppose  you  will  not  wait?" 

"  No,  thank  you,  we  must  get  to  the  Hall  as 
quickly  as  possible.  Now  wait,  and  I  will  bring 
Louis'  wife." 

"  I'll  go  to  the  carriage  with  you,  Vance." 

Florence  went  to  Nettie.  They  took  her  and 
Willie  into  the  house,  and  the  poor,  wronged,  young 
wife  was  at  once  welcomed  warmly  to  the  hearts  of 
these  kind  friends. 

Mr.  Edwards  was  presented,  and  as  briefly  as 
possible,  Vance  and  Florence  told  their  story.  The 
surprise  and  indignation  of  Mr.  Edwards  were 
boundless.  He  at  once  believed  in  Nettie,  and 
readily  lent  his  aid  to  prevent  the  completion  of 
so  base  a  crime. 

Both  Florence  and  her  father  were  won  by 
Nettie's  gentle,  lady-like  appearance,  and  the  bright 
beauty  and  wonderful  resemblance  to  his  father,  of 
little  Willie,  who,  instead  of  being  tired,  seemed 


l62  THE   UNBIDDEN    GUEST   ARRIVES. 

vastly  amused  and  pleased  at  finding  himself  in  so 
many  new,  strange  places. 

There  was  not  a  moment  to  lose.  Leaving  Mr. 
Edwards',  Nettie  and  Willie,  to  follow  in  the  family 
carriage,  after  the  travelers  had  taken  some  refresh- 
ment, Vance  and  Florry  set  out  immediately  in  the 
hired  carriage  which  had  come  from  Frankfort 
depot. 

As  they  drove  along,  they  had  time  for  further 
explanations.  Vance  told  as  much  as  he  could, 
and  Florence  gave  him  all  her  news,  relating  the 
little  scene  before  his  photograph,  and  expressing 
her  firm  conviction  that  Marcia  was  very  unhappy, 
and  that  her  love  was  given  to  him,  not  to  Louis. 

"  Then  why  does  she  marry  him?"  asked  Vance. 

Florence  shook  her  head. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you.  That  mystery  has  perplexed 
me  greatly,  but  I  have  not  solved  it." 

"  Well,  I  hope  from  my  soul  you  are  right, 
Florry.  If  you  are  much  trouble  and  embarrass- 
ment may  be  saved  to-night.  I  can  rely  on  you  in 
any  emergency?" 

"Yes.  If  I  have  not  proved  that, -I  cannot, 
Vance." 

"  Words  cannot  tell  how  nobly  you  have  proved 
it,  dear  sister,  or  thank  you  for  what  you  have 
done  for  me.  God  bless  you  for  it,  my  dear 
Florry!"  And  Vance  pressed  her  hands  closely  in 
his  strong  clasp,  just  as  they  drove  in  through  the 
great  iron  gates  at  Douglas  Hall. 

They  had  planned  that  Florence  should  go  in  at 
the  front  door,  while  Vance  went  round  to  the  side 
door  and  tried  to  reach  his  uncle's  library  and  have 
an  interview  with  him  before  he  should  be  seen  by 
any  one  else. 

Their  plan  proved  a  greater  success  than  they 
had  dreamed  of. 


VANCE   AND    MARCIA.,  163 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

VANCE   AND    MARCIA. 

"  After  long  grief  and  pain, 
Are  these  the  arms  of  my  true  love 
Round  me  once  again?  " 

Anon 

FLORENCE  went  in  and  ran  up  -stairs  straight  to  the 
chamber  appointed  for  the  bridesmaids 

Mr.  LeDru,  in  his  own  room,  was  making  a  most 
elaborate  toilet,  ready  to  be  summoned  by  his 
groomsmen  at  the  bridal  hour. 

Marcia  was  also,  in  her  room,  But  she  was  not 
dressing,  her  bridesmaids  having  not  yet  arrived. 
She  had  not  yet  gone  down  to  the  very  early  tea 
which  was  served  before  five  o'clock,  but  sat  then, 
as  she  sat  now,  before  the  open  fire  in  her  chamber, 
robed  in  a  rose-colored  cashmere  dressing-gown. 

The  rich  bridal  costume  of  creamy  satin  trimmed 
with  white  ostrich  tips,  the  snowy  laces,  gloves,  fan, 
satin  slippers  and  filmy  veil  were  spread  out  upon 
the  bed,  but  Marcia'a  eyes  were  not  upon  them. 

She  was  gazing  sadly  into  the  fire,  listening  to 
the  faint  sigh  of  the  dying  wind  outside,  and  wish- 
ing that  she  could  put  off  this  day  far  into  the 
future. 

Then  there  came  into  her  heart  an  intense  longing 
to  see  her  dear  old  father  once  more  while  yet  she 
bore  his  name.  Rosa  having  just  entered  the  room, 
she  ask'vl:  "  Rosa,  do  you  know  where  papa  is? 

"  Yes'm,  he's  in  de  liberry,  all  dressed  in  his  bes* 
black  suit." 

"  Is  he  alone,  Rosa?     What  was  he  doing?  " 

"  Yes'm,  he's  all  by  hisself.  He  wasn't  doin' 
nuffin,  jes'  a-settin'  an'  lookin'  in  de  fire,  sorter  sad- 
like." 

"  Poor  papa!   I  must  see  him  a  minute.  Rosa.     ] 


1^4  VANCE   AND    MARCIA. 

know  he's  so  lonely.  Can  I  get  down  without 
meeting  anybody?  " 

"  You  couldn't  git  down  de  front  way,  Miss 
Marshy,  fur  de  folkses  is  arribin'  an'  goin'  up-sta'rs. 
But  ef  you  go  down  de  back  way,  pas'  de  side  do', 
why,  you  won't  meet  a  singly  soul. " 

Marcia  sprang  up.  "  I'll  go  that  way,  then.  I 
won't  be  gone  but  a  moment,  and  mind,  Rosa, 
don't  let  any  one  into  my  room  until  I  come 
back." 

"  No'm,  I  won't,  Miss  Marshy." 

<;  If  the  girls  come  to  dress  me,  tell  them  to  wait 
a  little,  but  don't  tell  them  I'm  not  here." 

"  Yes'm,  Miss  Marshy,  I  will,"  was  Rosa's  some- 
what ambiguous  answer. 

Marcia  ran  softly  down  the  long  hall,  and  de- 
scended the  stairs,  without  meeting  any  one,  until 
just  as  she  reached  the  last  step,  the  side  door 
opened  and  —  Vance  entered! 

One  startled  glance,  one  suppressed  cry,  and 
then,  everything  forgotten,  except  that  they  saw 
each  other's  faces  again,  the  two  sprang  forward 
and  were  clasped  in  each  other's  arms. 

"  Oh,  Vance,  Vance,  Vance!  "  gasped  Marcia, 
upon  his  shoulder.  "  Oh,  thank  Heaven,  you  have 
come!  " 

"  Yes,  darling,  yes!  never  to  leave  you  again!  " 
said  Vance,  clasping  her  closer.  "  Never  to  give 
up  my  own  girl  anymore!  " 

"  No,  no!  I  could  not  live  if  you  did!  "  fervently 
sighed  Marcia,  forgetting  what  a  confession  she  was 
making,  forgetting  Louis,  Florence,  everything,  for 
the  moment,  except  that  Vance  had  come,  and  she 
could  feel  his  strong  heart  beating  with  great  throbs 
against  her  own. 

Vance  smiled,  and  his  face  kindled.  A  bold 
plan  had  been  forming  in  Vance's  mind,  during  the 
last  half-hour.  Perhaps  it  might  succeed. 


VANCE  AND   MARCIA.  165 

Still  clasping  her  closely,  he  said,  gently,  "  Mar- 
cia,  I  must  ask  you  two  questions.  Answer  them 
as  before  God — all  your  future  and  mine  depends 
on  what  you  say.  " 

"  Ask  anything,  Vance!  "  she  whispered.  "  I  will 
answer  truly." 

"  Do  you  love  Louis,  Marcia?  " 

"  I  try  to,  for  papa's  sake,  Vance!  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  answered!  Then,  if,  even  now, 
something  happen  to  release  you  from  him,  would 
you  grieve?  " 

"  I  would  bless  Heaven  for  it,  Vance!  " 

"Thank  God!  Marcia,  you  are  ours  —  mine  — 
still,  and  forever!  I  bring  news  which  will  release 
you!  Trust  me,  darling,  believe  me  —  you  are 
free!  I  can't  explain  now,  but  go  to  your  room, 
and  wait  till  you  are  sent  for.  Then  come,  and 
you  shall  hear  all!  Where  is  uncle?" 

"  In  the  library." 

"  Alone?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  will  go  to  him  now.  Run,  Marcia,  some 
one  is  coming!  " 

Marcia  flew  at  the  sound  of  steps,  and  Vance 
vanished  into  the  library,  where  Squire  Douglas 
welcomed  him  with  joyful  surprise. 

"  You're  just  in  time,  my  boy!  "  he  cried,  glee- 
fully. "  Just  in  time  for  the  wedding!  " 

"  I  hope  I  am,  Uncle,"  replied  Vance. 

"  But,  bless  my  soul,  boy,  what  has  kept  you  so 
long?  " 

"  Uncle,  that  is  what  I  traveled  day  and  night  to 
tell  you."  Vance  stepped  to  the  door  and  locked 
it,  then  threw  off  his  cap  and  overcoat,  and  drew 
two  chairs  near  the  fire,  saying: 

"  Sit  down,  Uncle,  and  be  as  composed  as  you 
can,  for  I  shall  be  obliged  to  try  your  strength 
largely. " 


1 66  VANCE   AND    MARCIA. 

"  But  —  but  you  _alarm  me,  boy!  "  said  the  old 
Squire,  looking  serious. 

"  The  cause  for  alarm,  thank  God!  has  passed 
Uncle.  Bat  there  is  cause  for  grave  thought  and 
decided  action.  Try  to  hear  me  as  calmy  as  you 
can,  sir  —  for  I  have  a  long  story  to  tell. " 

"  The  Lord !    Don't  keep  me  in  suspense,  Vance !" 

"  I  will  not,  sir."     Then  Vance  began  at  his  first 
suspicion,  and   revealed  everything,  step  by  step. 
The  emotions  of  Squire  Douglas,  as  he  heard  the 
tale,  would  be   utterly   impossible    to   depict.      He 
gasped,  he  wept,  he  raved,  he  actually  swore!  For  • 
the  first  time  in  his  life  Vance  heard  his  uncle  swear  ; 
—  and  the  only  time,  too  —  nor  did  he  blame  him. 

When  the  story  was  all  told,  the  old  Squire 
clasped  Vance  to  his  aged  breast,  and  blessed  him 
for  saving  his  daughter. 

"  Yes,  when  her  old  father  was  deceived,  and 
powerless  to  shield  her  tender  head,  you  did  it,  my 
dear  boy!  God  bless  you,  bless  you,  Vance,  my 
son,  my  son!  "  breathed  the  good,  old  Squire,  in 
tremulous  tones. 

Vance  was  also  deeply  agitated.  But  he 
reminded  his  uncle  that  Mr.  Edwards  would  soon 
arrive  with  his  charges,  and  Marcia  must  be  told 
before  they  could  confront  the  villain  who  was 
waiting  so  serenely  up-stairs. 

Hearing  Rosa's  voice  in  the  hall,  Squire  Douglas 
opened  the  door  a  tiny  crack,  and  bade  her  send 
Miss  Marcia  to  the  library  instantly. 

"  Spec's  Miss  Marshy  am  a-dressin',  sah,  but  I'se 
tell  her!  "  said  Rosa,  who  was  gaily  robed  in  her 
own  holiday  best. 

Marcia  was  not  dressing,  but  waiting  for  her 
summons,  with  a  happy  face,  and  eyes  like  great 
stars.  What  had  happened  she  did  not  know. 
But  Vance  had  said  she  was  free,  and  she  could 
trust  him.  His  manner  was  not  the  manner  of 


VANCE   AND    MARCIA.  l6/ 

another  woman's  lover,  but  of  a  man  who  loved 
her!  He  had  called  her  "  his,"  too.  Whatever 
was  coming,  she  had  been  wrong  in  thinking  him 
Florry's  lover,  and  nothing  else  mattered. 

She  had  time  to  brace  her  nerves  for  a  shock 
before  she  was  called  down,  and  she  heard  the 
story  very  calmly,  with  her  hand  clasped  tight  in 
her  father's. 

"  Well,  papa,"  said  she,  "  I  am  safe  now,  and 
cannot  be  taken  from  you.  Promise  me  that  you 
will  do  Mr.  LeDru  no  violence,  before  you  see  him. " 
I  don't  know!  I  won't  promise!  "  growled  the 
old  gentleman.  "  I  should  like  to  tear  his  evil 
heart  out  of  his  vile  body!  I  should —  curse  him! 
I  will,  too!  I  will  kill  him!  " 

"  Then,  father,"  said  Marcia,  firmly,  "  you  shall 
not  see  him!  I  will  go  alone,  myself,  to  his  room, 
and  send  him  from  the  house,  unless  you  promise. " 

"  I  won't  do  it!  "  protested  the  stubborn  Squire; 
"  I'll  kill  him,  sure!  " 

"  Then,  father,  you  shall  never  see  him!    Never!  " 

"  Well,  well,  I'll  promise!  I  want  to  see  him! 
Only  hold  me  fast,  so  I  can't  fly  at  him!  I  want 
to  see  him!  I  want  to  confront  him  with  the  proof 
of  his  villainy!  It's  time  they  were  here,  isn't  it, 
Vance?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  told  Mr.  Edwards  to  come  to  the 
side  door, —  and  here  they  are,  sir!  " 

At  the  sound  of  footsteps  he  opened  the  door, 
and  Mr.  Edwards  entered  the  room  with  Nettie  and 
little  Willie,  who  clung  to  his  mamma's  hand. 

"  Well,  old  friend,  here  is  trouble!  "  said  the 
Squire,  rising  and  grasping  Mr.  Edwards  by  the 
hand. 

And  then,  taking  hold  of  the  pale,  agitated  lady, 
he  drew  her  close  to  him,  saying,  in  kindest  tones, 
"  Come  in,  poor,  wronged  girl,  come  in!  You  are 


1 68  VANCE  AND   MARCIA. 

with  friends  now.  This  is  your  home;  I  am  your  father,  for  th« 
present !  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  God  bless  your  noble  heart ! "  sobbed  Nettie.  "  And  you, 
dear  young  lady, "  turning  to  Marcia  with  imploring  hands,  "  oh,  for- 
give me  for  bringing  this  woe  to  your  door ! " 

"  Nay,  lady,  you  bring  a  blessing,"  said  Marcia,  putting  her  arms 
around  Nettie,  leading  her  to  the  sofa  and  removing  her  hat. 
"  I  thank  you  for  coming  so  far  to  save  me.  And  remember  you  have 
not  only  to  do  that,  but  to  establish  your  own  rights,  and  those  of 
this  dear  boy. "  And  she  lifted  Willie  up,  kissed  him  and  put  him 
down  beside  his  mother,  where  he  looked  in  wonder  at  all  these  people. 

While  they  arrange  for  their  final  tableau,  let  us  see  what  has  be- 
come of  the  expectant  bridegroom,  Mr.  LeDru.  Of  course  all  this 
had  taken  less  time  in  the  happening  than  it  does  in  the  telling,  yet 
Mr.  Louis  was  beginning  to  wonder  why  his  groomsmen  did  not  come 
for  him,  when  he  was  told  that  Squire  Douglas  would  like  to  see  him 
a  moment  in  the  library. 

"  Some  trifling  formality,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Louis',  lightly,  as  in 
all  his  bridal  bravery,  he  tripped  down-stairs  to  the  library. 

Heavens!  what  a  change  in  human  lives  the  mere  opening  of  a 
deal  door  may  make. 

Lightly,  debonairely,  Mr.  Louis  laid  his  white-gloved  hand  upon 
the  handle  of  the  library  door,  opened  it  — and  reeled  like  a  drunken 
man. 

Tableau ! 

Mr.  Edwards  stood  near  the  door.  Vance,  with  Marcia  beside 
him,  near  the  sofa. 

In  the  center,  Squire  Douglas,  with  a  lady  on  one  arm,  a  child 
held  by  the  other  hand.  The  lady,  white  and  cold  as  death,  the 
child  with  round,  astonished  eyes. 

"  God !"  fell  from  Louis'  livid  lips,  as  he  tottered  a  step  forward, 
ashy  white,  with  strained  eyes  bent  upon  the  group  before  him,  with 
parched,  choking  throat,  with  stiffened  lips  that  could  utter  only  the 
name  of  Him  whose  righteous  laws  he  had  disregarded. 

An  instant  he  stood  —  then  turned  to  fly  —  Mr.  Edwards  locked 
the  door,  and  stood  against  it. 

"  Louis,  yoursin  has  found  you  out !"  said  the  Squire,  sternly.  "You 
may  thank  these  women  that  we  do  not  slay  you  where  you  stand. 
It  would  be  a  light  punishment  for  treachery  as  base  as  yours."  The 
Squire  was  exerting  all  his  force  of  self-control.  Louis  quite  lost  his. 

"Who  has  —  has  —  done  this?"  he  stammered.  "Have  you?" 
and  he  sprang  like  an  enraged  demon  toward  his  wife,  who  only 
moaned  faintly,  and  drooped  her  head.  Vance  sprang  forward  —  so 
did  the  Squire.  He  pushed  Vance  away,  and  put  Nettie  behind  him, 
saying,  "  Back,  boy !  This  is  my  deal !  " 

Marcia  flew  to  support  Nettie's  sinking  form  upon  the  sofa. 

"  Peace,  coward !"  thundered  the  Squire  to  the  shrinking  Louis. 
"  Silence,  sir !  You  have  forfeited  all  right  to  address  this  injured 
lady.  You  have  to  face  men  now.  This  is  her  home,  we  are  her 
protectors.  Interfere,  and  the  law  shall  deal  with  you.  Have  you 
the  certificate  of  your  marriage  with  her  in  this  house  ?  " 

"  Ye-es!"  hissed  the  culprit. 

"  Where  is  it  ?  " 


A  WEDDING  AFTER  ALL.  169 

"In  —  in  my  trunk." 

"  Get  it,  and  bring  it  here.  Vance,  Edwards,  each  of  you  take  an 
arm,  lead  him  to  his  room,  and  bring  him  back.  Vance,  have  you  a 
revolver  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir."     Vance  drew  the  gleaming  weapon  from  his  pocket. 

"  If  he  tries  to  escape,  shoot  him.  Shoot  him  like  the  dog  he  is! 
Never  mind  the  women,  but  shoot!  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  YES,  SIR  !  I  swear  I  will  obey. " 

But  Louis  offered  no  resistance,  he  knew  these  men  were  not  trifling. 
They  led  him  to  his  room,  let  him  produce  the  paper,  then  took  him 
back  hastily,  lest  they  should  meet  some  of  the  wedding  guests,  before 
this  evil,  unbidden  one  could  be  banished  from  the  house. 

They  gave  the  paper  to  Nettie,  the  other  unbidden  yet  welcome 
guest.  She  received  it,  and  sank  again,  almost  senseless,  in  Marcia's 
tender  embrace.  "  Now  go"  said  the  Squire,  extending  his  hand. 
"  We  have  spared  your  caitiff  life  this  time !  Cross  the  threshold  of 
this  honorable  home  once  more,  and  it  is  forfeited !  Go!  " 

The  wretched  Louis  slunk  away,  baffled,  ruined,  and  banishedyi>r- 
ever  from  the  presence  of  virtue  and  truth. 

While  in  the  parlor,  the  guests  were  assembled  to  witness  the  wed- 
ding which  would  never  take  place. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  WEDDING   AFTER  ALL. 

"So  we  wandered  through  the  gate  together. 
Hand  in  hand  upon  our  future  way." 

Miss  BURN  SIDE. 

"Now,  old  friend,"  said  the  Squire,  turning  to  Mr.  Edwards,  "I 
have  to  thank  you  for  standing  by  us  in  this  time  of  trouble.  I  know 
your  discretion  can  be  relied  upon." 

"  Most  entirely !  "  returned  Mr.  Edwards.  "  But  your  thanks  are 
not  due  to  me,  but  to  Vance,  brave  fellow !  I  did  not  dream  of  such  a 
state  of  things  until  to-night." 

"  I  have  thanked  him  already,"  said  the  Squire,  laying  his  hand 
affectionately  on  Vance's  shoulder.  "  He  knows  how  I  appreciate 
his  work. " 

"  You  must  thank  Florence,  too,  uncle,"  said  Vance.  "  I  could 
have  done  nothing  without  her.  She  has  been  friend,  confidant, 
sister  and  helper,  from  the  very  first." 

"  God  bless  her  for  it ! "  said  the  Squire,  fervently. 

"  Thank  you,  Squire !  I  am  proud  of  my  girl  this  night,"  said  Mr. 
Edwards,  warmly.  "  We  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  those  young 
people." 

Marcia,  with  a  happy  light  in  her  brown  eyes,  left  her  post  beside 
Nettie,  and  softly  slipped  her  hand  into  her  cousin's,  where  it  was 
held  with  a  strong  clasp. 

"  Our  task  is  not  yet  ended,"  resumed  the  Squire.  "We  have  a 
mighty  tough  knot  still  to  untie.  Those  people  in  the  parlors  have 
come  to  witness  a  wedding.  Somebody  has  got  to  tell  them  there 
will  be 'no  wedding  here  to-night.  Friend  Edwards,  will  you  under- 
take to  help  us  over  this  very  embarrassing  point?" 


I/O  A    WEDDING   AFTER   ALL. 

Before  Mr.  Edwards  could  answer,  Vance  had  drawn  Marcia's 
hand  upon  his  arm,  and  thus  led  her  before  his  uncle. 

"  Uncle  Samuel,"  said  he,  "there  is  no  necessity  of  disappointing 
our  guests.  If  you  say  so,  the  wedding  shall  go  right  on.  I  will 
take  Mr.  LeDru's  place  as  bridegroom. " 

In  his  sudden  surprise  the  Squire  almost  bounded  from  the  floor. 

"  Why,  God  bless  my  soul !"  he  cried.  Lord  bless  us  all,  I  never  , 
thought  of  such  a  thing  as  that." 

"/  have  thought  of  it,  these  many  long  months,"  said  Vance, 
calmly. 

"  But  —  but,  boy,  we  all  supposed  you  were  courting  Florence !" 

"  Florence  never  has  been,  never  thought  of  being,  more  than  a 
good,  kind  sister  to  me,"  said  Vance,  not  doubting  what  he  said. 
"  She  has  helped  me  in  this  affair,  knowing  all  about  my  love  for 
Marcia.  I  took  that  long  journey  because  I  could  not  give  my  cousin 
up  to  another.  May  I  have  her,  uncle?  " 

"  Vou'll  have  to  say  yes,  Squire.  He  has  fairly  earned  her,"  said 
Mr.  Edwards,  smiling  at  this  unique  proposal. 

"  So  he  has !  So  he  has !  I'm  glad  to  let  him  have  her,  too !  That  is, 
if  she  consents.  How  is  that,  my  girl?  " 

"  She  will  consent,  uncle.  Won't  you,  Marcia?  "  said  Vance,  bend- 
ing low. 

"  Gladly !  "  was  Marcia's  simple  answer,  raising  her  love-lit  eyes  to 
his.  Vance's  bold  plan  had  succeeded. 

"  Amen ! "  fervently  uttered  the  old  Squire.  "  I  must  say,  young 
folks,  your  way  of  getting  over  the  difficulty  is  ahead  of  mine.  But 
see  here —  there's  the  license. " 

"  Who  has  it?"  asked  Mr.  Edwards. 

"I  have.  That  confounded  rascal  —  (I  ask  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Le- 
Dru  ;  I  forgot  you  were  here ! )  — gave  it  to  me  to  hand  to  his  grooms- 
man, Doctor  Burnett.  I  haven't  given  it  yet."  He  drew  the  paper 
from  his  pocket. 

"  Perhaps  I  can  be  of  service  in  this  crisis,"  said  Mr.  Edwards, 
drawing  out  his  watch.  "  It  is  now  seven  —  by  mounting  your  fleetest 
horse,  I  could  ride  to  Frankfort,  change  this  for  a  license  with  the 
correct  name,  and  get  back  by  nine,  at  latest,  only  a  half  hour  after 
the  appointed  time. " 

"  The  horse  shall  be  ready  instantly !  "  returned  the  Squire. 

But  Marcia,  stepping  forward,  blushing  crimson,  laid  her  hand  on 
her  father's  arm,  saying,  "  Papa,  Mr.  Edwards  is  very,  very  kind, 
but  if  you  would  let  Dick  Leslie  do  this  for  us,  I  think,  nay,  I  know 
he  would  be  very  happy  to  have  the  chance. " 

"I  yield  the  task  freely,"  said  Mr.  Edwards,  smiling.  "Dick  is 
much  better  fitted  for  a  harum-scarum  gallop  than  I  am,  any  way. 
Shall  I  call  him,  Squire?" 

"  Yes,  call  him,  Edwards,  while  I  order  the  horse.  We'll  explain, 
and  have  him  off  in  a  twinkling.  And  you  young  monkeys  fly  up- 
stairs and  get  your  fix-ups  on !  We'll  have  a  merry  wedding  yet,  by 
the  Lord  Harry ! " 

While  Vance  and  Marcia  hastened  up-stairs,  Dick  was  summoned 
to  the  library,  and  told  as  much  as  was  needful  to  his  errand.  He 
was  almost  struck  dumb  with  amazement,  but  he  was  heartily  rejoiced 
at  the  change,  for  his  hatred  of  LeDru  was  deep  and  sincere. 


A   WEDDING   AFTER   ALL.  I/ 1 

Marcift  judged  rightly  —  honest  Dick  was  sincerely  glad  of  the 
opportunity  to  serve  them,  and  if  ever  a  horse  was  made  to  fly  over 
"bank,  bush  and  scaur,"  it  was  Dick  Leslie's  horse  that  wedding 
night,  on  his  way  to  change  the  license. 

Marcia  found  only  Rosa  in  her  chamber.  But  Rosa  stood  speech- 
less with  surprise  —  that  laughing,  radiant  face  she  had  not  seen  on 
her  young  mistress  for  many  a  day ! 

"  Rosa,  have  Myra  and  Florence  come?"  asked  Marcia. 

"  Miss  Myrahabn't,  but  Miss  Flo'encedone  wait  in  de  bnaesmaid's 
room  dis  long  time,  Miss  Marshy." 

"  Go  tell  her  to  come  and  dress  me,  Rosa;  I'm  late  now.  And 
then  do  you  go  find  Aunt  Maddy,  and  tell  her  papa  wants  her  in  the 
library.  Vance  has  come  and  brought  friends  with  him. " 

"  Marse  Vance  got  home  ?  Well,  dat's  good  news  !  Yes'um,  Miss 
Marshy,  I  tell  'em,  right  quick  !"  and  Rosa  sped  away  on  her  errand. 

Florry  hastened  to  Marcia's  room,  not  in  her  bridesmaid's  robes, 
but  still  wearing  the  plain  black  silk. 

At  sight  of  the  rapt,  happy  face,  flushed  cheeks,  smiling  lips  and 
sparkling  eyes  Marcia  turned  toward  her,  she  stopped  short,  almost 
aghast.  White  cheeks,  anguished  eyes,  blanched  lips,  she  had 
expected  —  but  not  this  ! 

"  Fie,  you  naughty  girl !  not  dressed  yet ! "  cried  Marcia,  merrily. 
"  Now  I  shall  condemn  you  to  dress  me  first. " 

"  But  you  are — you  are  not! — you  don't! — "  stammered  Florry, 
quite  unable  to  comprehend. 

"  Don't  what  ?  Don't  mean  to  be  married  ?  Yes,  of  course  I  do ! 
Dress  me  quick,  we  are  late  now !  " 

"  But  I  —  but,  Marcia !  —  you  don't  know !  " 

"  Yes,  I  do !  I  know  everything,  you  noble,  good  girl ! "  cried  Marcia, 
flinging  her  arms  around  Florence,  and  giving  her  a  good  hug. 
"Bless  you,  Florry!  I'm  the  happiest  girl  alive!  Now,  will  you 
dress  me  ?  " 

"No!  I  won't!"  cried  Florence.  "  This  iniquitous  wedding — you 
know  it  can't  go  on !  " 

"  I  know  it  can,  and  ska! I,  Florry. " 

"  Marcia !  Marcia !  for  Heaven's  sake !     He  has  a  wife  already ! " 

"  He  has  no  wife  but  me !  Never  will  have !  "  cried  Marcia,  with 
merry  lips  and  sparkling  eyes.  "Oh,  Florry!  can't  you  guess?  It 
isn't  Louis!  " 

Florence  caught  the  sweet,  rosy  face  between  her  two  hands,  and 
looking  at  it,  a  joyful  wonder  lit  her  own.  "Is  it  Vance?"  she  cried. 

"  Yes !  "  A  fervent  embrace  said  all  the  rest. 

"Well!  thank  the  Lord!"  exclaimed  Florry.  "Now  we  must 
hurry!  Oh,  I'm  so  glad!  But  why  don't  Myra  come?  Your  combs 
and  brushes  first,  Marcia,  quick !  Where  is  Myra,  I  say?  " 

"  She  has  not  come,"  said  Marcia,  while  Florry's  fingers  flew  over 
her  beautiful  brown  hair.  "  She  is  not  well,  you  know,  and  I  suppose 
was  afraid  to  venture  out  in  the  damp  air." 

Florence  guessed  that  Vance  had  not  yet  spoken  of  the  affair  be- 
tween Myra  and  LeDru.  But  she  knew  that  Myra  had  not  come 
because  she  could  not  bear  to  see  the  man  she  loved  wedded  to 
another.  But  she  only  said: 


172  A   WEDDING    AFTER   ALL. 

"  Well,  we  can't  wait  for  her.     You  will  have  to  do  with  «ne 
bridesmaid,  that's  all." 
********* 

In  the  front  parlor  a  large  number  of  guests,  considering  the 
weather,  were  waiting.  In  the  back  parlor  and  hall  were  seen  the 
dusky  faces  of  the  negroes,  who  had  all  gathered  to  see  their  beloved 
young  mistress  married. 

The  minister  was  also  waiting,  and  the  company  were  beginning  to 
grow  impatient,  when  a  whisper  ran  through  the  rooms,  and  the 
bridal  train  appeared. 

First  came  Mr.  Edwards,  with  Aunt  Madeline  upon  his  arm,  fair 
and  stately  in  her  stiff  black  satin  and  laces.  Next  came  Squire 
Douglas  with  a  pale,  sweet  lady,  also  in  black  satin,  whom  nobody 
knew.  Then  Mr.  Walters,  escorting  Florence,  and  lastly  the  bride 
and  groom,  Marcia  and  —  Vance  Douglas! 

The  murmur  of  amazement,  and  even  of  delight,  from  the  back 
parlor,  could  not  be  suppressed,  but  it  was  quickly  stilled  as  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Manning  arose  and  began  the  impressive  ceremony.  Mr.  Man- 
ning had  been  instructed  previously,  and  held  the  new  license  in  his 
hand,  so  he  proceeded  without  hesitation. 

The  service  was  soon  over.  In  the  brief  instant  before  congratula- 
tions could  begin,  Squire  Douglas  rose  and  said: 

"  My  friends  and  neighbors,  before  you  offer  your  good  wishes, 
allow  me  to  say  that  circumstances  soon  to  be  explained,  have  led,  as 
you  see,  to  a  change  in  one  of  the  leading  actors  in  the  scene  you 
have  just  witnessed.  By  this  change,  my  daughter  and  my  son  — " 
the  Squire's  voice  trembled  at  these  words  — "  have  consummated  an 
attachment  as  old  as  their  lives.  Let  us  now  wish  them  the  happy 
future  they  so  well  merit. " 

He  stepped  forward  and  gave  them  his  blessing,  then  stationed 
himself  at  Nettie  LeDru's  side. 

The  family  first,  and  then  the  friends  came  up,  and  each  one,  as 
they  passed,  was  introduced  to  the  stranger  lady  as  a  "  second  daugh- 
ter of  his  house  and  sister  to  his  children,  as  well  as  the  wife  of  Louis 
LeDru. " 

"  This  circumstance,"  he  would  say,  "  quite  explains  Vance's  right 
to  the  place  he  took,  which  would  have  been  his  long  ago,  but  for  a 
misunderstanding  between  him  and  Marcia.  Our  Louis  has  not  been 
a  very  good  boy,  but  we,  by  our  Kentucky  kindness  and  hospitality, 
will  make  up  to  this  dear  girl  wherein  he  has  failed." 

Nettie  blessed  him  for  the  generosity  with  which  he  spoke  of  her 
recreant  husband,  who  had  intended  such  a  blow  against  the  honor  of 
his  house.  The  Squire  knew  well  that  an  appeal  to  their  virtues  as 
Kentuckians  would  place  her  at  the  best  advantage,  and  that  his  guests 
would  assist  him  in  supporting  her  through  an  ordeal  which  could  not 
fail  to  be  a  trying  one. 

Xo  one,  entering  those  gay  parlors,  would  have  seen  that  Nettie 
was  a  stranger,  or  perceived  anything  of  the  undercurrent  of  surprise, 
wonder,  and  in  some  cases,  almost  incredulity  which  filled  the  minds 
of  the  guests. 

Dick,  still  warm  from  his  hasty  gallop,  knew,  of  course,  who  the 
bridegroom  would  be,  but  he  was  surprised  that  Myra  and  Doctor 
Burnett  were  not  with  the  bridal  party. 


RETRIBUTION.  173 

Glancing  about,  he  saw  the  doctor  among  the  guests,  and  while  the 
congratulations  were  being  offered,  he  made  his  way  to  him,  and 
asked  why  they  had  failed  to  carry  out  their  part  of  the  programme. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  that  we  did  fail, "  said  the  young  doctor,  "  but  as 
the  bad  weather  kept  Miss  Myra  at  home,  of  course  I  was  of  no  use 
without  her. " 

"  Did  I  understand  you  to  say  that  Myra  is  not  here  ?  " 

"  I  was  so  informed  by  Miss  Edwards." 

"  That  is  strange.  I  thought  she  came  over  an  hour  or  two  before 
I  did,"  said  Dick.  He  then  sought  for  Florence.  The  company 
were  just  going  out  to  supper,  but  he  made  out  to  get  a  word  with 
her,  and  ask  if  she  was  sure  Myra  was  not  there. 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  Florence.  "  We  waited  as  long  as  we 
could  for  her." 

"  Well,  it's  queer,"  said  Dick.  "  She  was  dressed  to  come  long 
before  I  left  home." 

"  How  was  she  coming,  Dick  ?  " 

"  In  the  carriage.  Father  and  mother  were  coming,  but  father  is 
kept  in  the  house  with  a  cold,  and  mother  would  not  come  without 
him.  The  carriage  was  ready  for  Myra  before  dark,  or  I  would  have 
come  with  her.  I  came  on  my  horse,  later." 

"  It  seems  odd,  doesn't  it,  Dick  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  I  suppose  she  changed  her  mind  and  stayed  at  home, 
that's  all." 

Dick  went  off  satisfied.  But  Florence,  knowing  all  she  did,  felt 
very  uneasy.  After  supper  she  went  quietly  to  Dick  and  said: 

"  Dick,  I  am  worried  about  Myra.  Suppose  you  ride  over  home 
and  see  if  she  is  there.  It  won't  take  you  long." 

"  Certainly  I  will,  Florry.  I  feel  a  little  uneasy  myself.  I  will  be 
back  in  half  an  hour,  and  probably  bring  her  with  me. " 

He  went  out  at  once.  Florry  returned  to  her  place,  and  waited 
with  an  anxiety  she  could  not  subdue,  for  his  reappearance. 

After  supper  the  light  cloud  which  seemed  to  hang  over  the  com- 
pany had  quite  vanished.  Even  Nettie,  though  wearied  with  travel 
and  sorrow,  finding  herself  taken  at  once  to  the  homes  and  hearts  of 
so  many  kind  friends,  was  able  to  wear  a  semblance  of  pleasure. 
And  when  she  thought  of  Willie,  sleeping  soundly  up-stairs,  and 
knew  that  now  his  name  and  rights  were  fully  established,  her  anxious 
heart  did  swell  with  grateful  joy. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

WHERE  IS   MYRA?— RETRIBUTION. 

"  There  be  troubles  in  this  world 
That  no  man  can  escape;  and  there  is  one 
That  lieth  hard  and  heavy  on  my  soul." 

JEAN  INGEI.OW. 

AN  hour  haa  passed  since  supper,  and  Dick  had  not  returned. 
Florence  grew  seriously  alarmed.  She  looked  at  her  watch,  and  saw 
that  it  wanted  only  ten  minutes  to  eleven.  Why  did  he  not  come? 


174  .RETRIBUTION. 

She  was  just  about  to  speak  to  Vance  of  her  fears,  when  the  front 
door  was  thrown  open,  and  Dick,  still  in  his  evening  suit,  but  pale, 
mud-splashed  and  disordered,  came  rapidly  in. 

Florence  flew  to  him.  "  Oh,  Dick  !  what  is  the  matter?  Where 
*j"Myra?" 

"  God  only  knows !  "  groaned  Dick.  "  I  went  home,  and  found 
she  had  sent  the  carriage  back  to  the  stable,  saying  she  had  concluded 
not  to  come  over  here.  Mother  thought  she  was  in  her  room.  But 
she  was  not  even  in  the  house  —  not  on  the  place  anywhere.  Our  folks 
are  greatly  frightened.  I  came  back  to  see  if  anybody  here  knew 
anything  of  her." 

"  Anything  of  who?  Who  is  missing?  What  has  happened,  Dick?  " 
asked  Squire  Douglas,  coming  forward,  while  the  rest  all  gathered 
round  to  listen. 

"  My  sister  Myra  is  missing,  Squire.  We  don't  know  what  has 
happened  yet, "  said  Dick ;  and  in  a  few  words  told  all  he  knew,  ask- 
ing if  any  one  there  could  tell  where  she  was. 

"  I  am  sure  /  can  not,"  said  Vance;  "but  I  do  know,  and  so  do 
others  present,  circumstances  which  may  throw  light  on  this  affair. 
Shall  we  retire  to  the  library?  " 

"  Xo,"  said  Dick  ;  "  we  are  all  friends  here  ;  if  you  know  anything, 
out  with  it,  right  now  ! 

"  It  may  be  just  as  well,"  said  Vance.  "  The  story  will  creep  out, 
and  it  is  better,  perhaps,  to  let  it  go  truly.  Mrs.  LeDru,  if  it  will 
pain  you  to  remain " 

"  No,  no  !  "  interrupted  Nettie.  "  I  know  it  all,  and  if  this  poor 
brother  can  bear  it,  I  can.  Speak  as  freely  as  if  I  were  not  present, 
Mr.  Douglas!" 

"Let  our  daughter  stay!  "said  Squire  Douglas,  while  Marcia  went 
over  and  stood  beside  Nettie,  taking  hold  of  her  hand. 

"Tell  your  story  quick,  Vance,  for  God's  sake!"  groaned  Dick. 

"  If  it  is  more  of  that  man's  work,  I  will "  he  closed  his  teeth 

hard  in  an  effort  to  control  his  rage,  and  Vance  said,  with  a  hand  on 
his  arm: 

"  Gently,  Dick!  There  is  room  for  apprehension,  but  all  may  yet 
be  well.  Uncle,  please  send  Sam  and  Lina  Leslie  here;  they  may 
add  links  which  I  cannot. " 

Sam  and  Lina  were  brought  in,  and,  amid  tears,  sobs  and  exclama- 
tions of  grief,  anger  and  pity,  Vance  told  the  story  of  their  suspi- 
cions, and  Florence  added  her  testimony. 

Then  Sam  and  Lina  were  called.  Sam  could  add  little  to  what 
had  already  beu-n  told  by  Vance.  But  Lina,  weeping  and  sobbing, 
took  from  her  bosom  a  little  folded  paper,  and  confessed  that  when 
she  went  home  that  day  to  get  her  best  clothes  for  the  evening,  Myra 
had  given  it  to  her,  and  bade  her  find  a  chance  to  hand  it  to  Louis 
LeDru  after  the  ceremony  was  over. 

Vance  took  the  paper,  glanced  over  it,  and  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  horror,  as  he  passed  it  to  Dick,  who  took  it  with  shaking  fingers. 

Poor  Dick  tried  to  read  it — tried  again  —  then  threw  it  back. 
"  Oh,  read  it !  Read  it !  I  can't !  My  brain  whirls,  I  cannot  see ! 
Read  it,  Vance,  read  it  out ! " 

Every  soul  stood  breathless  while  Vance  read  the  note  aloud.  It 
ran  thus: 


..RETRIBUTION  175 

"  Farewell,  Louis,  my  beloved !  You  won  rap  heart,  only  to  break 
it !  I  know  now  that  your  promises  were  ad  lies,  and  you  nevef 
meant  to  marry  me.  I  do  not  upbraid  you,  but  life  is  too  dreary 
without  you  -  I  cannot  bear  it.  Farewell,  mother,  brother,  sister, 
friends.  The  waters  are  cool,  and  there  is  rest  beneath  them.  I 
have  sung  my  death  song,  and  I  go  to  join  the  poor  Indian  girl  who 
died,  like  poor  lost  Myra,  for  a  false  lover.  Farewell,  forever!" 

Oh !  what  a  scene  followed  the  reading  of  the  fatal  note ! 

"My  God!  she  has  jumped  the  falls!"  groaned  Squire  Douglas, 
while  moans  and  sobs  resounded  through  the  room. 

Dick  staggered  and  fell  to  the  floor  like  a  log.  Vance  rushed  to 
raise  him,  while  Marcia  and  Florence,  almost  in  hysterics,  flew 
to  Nettie,  who  had  fainted  upon  the  sofa. 

Doctor  Burnett  wrung  his  hands,  tore  his  hair  and  wept  aloud. 

Poor  Sam  was  down  on  his  knees,  groaning  and  crying  like  a  baby, 
and  Lina  had  to  be  carried  shrieking  from  the  room. 

Oh,  the  woe,  the  woe !  which  can  be  wrought  by  one  man's  ill 
doing ! 

The  hearts  which  must  ache  and  break  for  one  man's  sin. 

No  one  slept  at  the  Hall  or  at  River  View  that  ill-starred  night. 
Most  of  the  wedding  guests  at  once  departed.  A  band  was  formed  to 
search  the  river  for  poor  Myra,  and  another  to  carry  the  news,  should 
any  discovery  be  made. 

Before  noon  the  next  day,  they  bore  her  pretty,  lifeless  body,  still 
decked  in  its  gala  robes,  into  her  sorrow-stricken  home.  Poor,  inno- 
cent, unfortunate  Myra ! 

Not  alone  did  they  bear  her.  No  vengeance  was  left  for  father  or 
brother  to  take.  Retribution,  swift  and  stern,  had  descended  upon 
the  evil-doer. 

With  the  train  which  carried  poor  Myra's  light  form,  came 
another,  leading  a  lame  and  riderless  horse,  and  bearing  the  cold, 
drowned  body  of  Louis  I  ,eDru.  The  party  searching  for  Myra  had 
found  the  horse  which  he  had  ridden  from  the  Hall,  lame,  drenched 
and  bruised,  upon  the  river  bank,  not  far  from  the  falls.  Guided  by 
that  discovery,  they  searched  again,  and  found  under  the  bridge  th« 
drowned  body  of  the  sinful  Louis,  only  a  few  yards  from  the  spo' 
where  poor  Myra  was  drawn  out.  Her  destroyer  had  died  with  her. 

Whether  he  did  the  deed  purposely  or  not,  could  never  be  known 
It  was  most  likely  (as  was  generally  believed)  that,  after  leaving  th  • 
hall  in  such  deep  disgrace,  galloping  madly  toward  Frankfort,  he  had, 
in  the  intense  darkness,  missed  the  bridge,  and  dashed  directly  in U 
the  stream,  to  meet  his  awful  end. 

From  under  the  roof  which  he  had  planned  to  desecrate,  he  was 
carried  to  the  grave,  scarcely  mourned  save  by  the  wife  whom  he  had 
deserted.  Little  Willie  did  not  even  know  it  was  his  papa  who  lay 
so  still  and  white  in  the  long,  black  coffin  in  the  great  parlor. 

Not  one  word  of  vengeance  was  breathed.  All  felt  in  silence  that 
vengeance  was  the  Lord's,  and  He  had  repaid. 


176  CONCLUSION, 


CHAPTER  XXX, 

CONCLUSION. 

THE  children  of  the  Hall  took  no  bridal  trip,  preferring,  under 
the  sad  circumstances,  to  remain  with  the  old  squire,  Nettie,  and  the 
bereaved  friends  at  River  View. 

Though  their  wedding  had  been  marked  by  such  disaster,  it  was 
followed  by  a  peaceful  and  happy  life,  undarkened  by  a  cloud. 

They  still  live  at  the  old  Hall,  and  Squire  Douglas  grows  young 
again  as  he  romps  with  their  merry  children.  Nettie  LeDru  and  her 
boy  inherited  Louis'  wealth,  which  was  still  quite  a  fortune,  in  spite 
of  his  extravagance.  At  the  earnest  entreaty  of  her  friends,  Nettie 
remained  in  Kentucky,  and  for  three  years  made  her  home  at  the  hall. 

Then  she  was  married  again,  to  our  old  friend  Dick,  who  divides 
his  time  between  admiring  his  beloved  wife  and  spoiling  her  boy,  who 
does  not  inherit  one  trait  of  his  father's,  excepting  his  wonderful 
beauty. 

Florence  is  not  yet  married.  But  Doctor  Burnett  is  very  attentive, 
and  it  is  generally  reported  that  the  wedding  will  soon  occur. 

Sam  and  Lina  "done  hopped  de  broomstick,"  as  Pete  expressed  it, 
a  long  time  ago,  while  Pete  himself  has  been  promoted  to  the  position 
of  chief  groom,  is  quite  a  dandy,  and  makes  eyes  at  all  the  pretty  col- 
ored girls  in  the  neighborhood. 


